


The Red Cobblestone Road

by TwilightsDawn



Series: Death and Cats Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Being an Idiot, Cats, Death is a bit sassy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Has Nightmares, Harry Potter Has Secrets, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master of Death Harry Potter, Necromancer Harry Potter, Necromancy, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slow Burn, Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), There are more characters but I am not naming them all, Tom is a closet cat lover, please dont copy to other sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 157,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightsDawn/pseuds/TwilightsDawn
Summary: Harry Potter is murdered, crucified for the last-ditch effort at the greater good. But death is not as black and white as one would want it, not when Death claims you as his master. Harry has a do-over, reincarnated back into his past life, with all the knowledge he needs to piece back together with an old enemy that might just be the only one that can save him from his grizzly fate in 1999.Thinking back on it there really should have been a rule. Don’t travel back in time if you are just going to fall in love with the person that you are destined to kill. And as an add on if you are going to fall in love with them make sure that they stay focused on the task at hand and do not overindulge in dark magic and madness along the way.This story is being translated into Portuguese by the lovely May2305https://www.wattpad.com/story/236442136-the-red-cobblestone-road
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Death and Cats Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876519
Comments: 609
Kudos: 2681
Collections: Highlandspringo's Tomarry Shelf





	1. Death comes for All

**Author's Note:**

> I have a weird obsession with this pair, it wasn't something that I remotely planned on happening, but I just think there is something fun about pairing the worst of the worst with someone that can have the ability to change them if they choose. So I wanted to write something that was just serious enough but could be fun. 
> 
> And so this mess was born, all by a simple shower thought of there should have been a rule.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Death unexpectedly.

Harry Potter died. One would have thought that he would have died at the ripe old age of 120 or something, but no. He was sentenced to death by one man that he had once considered a friend, one that had greeted him upon his first death, and had seemed to want him to get a second chance outside of the life he had lived. It had all ended with a note, and pensive memories provided by one Albus Dumbledore should the Dark Lord ever be defeated. 

Harry had been looking forward to living. He had spent his whole life running from death. Death in his youth had many faces. He came in the face of a snake man, the form of a woman that had long curly black hair, he came in the form of many blonds, and purebloods. He came in all sorts of sizes and shapes. Humans and animals alike. Harry had just wanted to live a normal life, and even that was taken from him. He wasn’t sentenced, there has been no real warning that his death was creeping upon him. He had never seen it coming and he supposed that it was that way for everyone. He had created it far too many times to count, sidestepped it, and dodged it. 

He had even received an extra life having rejected the killing curse for a second time. Yes, Harry was not a cat and he supposed that 3 times was the lucky charm. He just had not expected it to come in the form of people that he considered to be friends and family. 

Yes, death came in many faces, but he never thought that it would come from someone that he truly thought loved him. He had thought that they loved him as much as he had loved them. But perhaps that was not even remotely true he had been willing to die, sacrifice all that he was for them. And they had succumbed to fear. In the deepest parts of him, he understands why they are scared. He knows that Voldemort and his followers have instilled in them a horrible fear, and Harry is probably stronger than him in a way having the loyalty of the elder wand. He also has no way to prove to them that Voldemort can not return through him. He is not even a hundred percent sure that the insignificant little soul shard is gone. 

And so he is killed by that flash of light and his body tossed right through an archway to eliminate any trace of him.

~/*\~

There is something that is beyond the archway in the department of mysteries. It had always whispered to him in his dreams from the moment that he has seen it take Sirius from him. And now he knows what lays beyond. It is dark and yet the darkness has shades, he knows not how he can distinguish them but he can. They move and drift like endless foggy clouds, mixing and colliding in a display of grays, and darker hues. There is a buzzing, and if he concentrates that buzzing can turn into distinguishable whispers. 

There are hundreds of voices that mash into a chorus. Some are in agony begging to be released, and then there are the ones that almost feel friendly. He can feel them pulling at him as he stands there in the fog. 

**I am sorry to have kept you waiting, this is not a place for you young Master.**

There is a swirling to the dark and he can see a figure make out the glowing blue behind a hood. The entity is great in height, he towers over him. His crooked spine and thin limbs. His presence is cold and he holds out a very thin hand out that catches a dim light that hangs off a large sickle in hand. The lantern swings with a creak and all the horrible voices are stilled. 

“Death.” Harry can only breathe, knowing that the entity before him is just as terrifying as one would have pictured him to be, and yet those blue eyes hold warmth. He is crafty that Harry knows, he knows from the tale. 

**The one and only.** He bows greatly and gestures for him to follow. And Harry does. They make their way through almost a tunnel and arrive at a small home that is located in the dark, it looks like a normal one but off. The colors are warped like he is visiting a memory rather than an actual place. 

**This is my home among the land of the dead. Each path from here goes to different places that people are sent.** The being explains. He is better in this light, he looks more skeletal but not as much a figure of shadow. In fact, the shadows seem to be more of his robe than anything else. He supposed that there is no great way to get a very definitive shape of something that is not made to be completely understood or comprehended. 

“Where was I?” Harry asks he can not see it as a nice place.

 **Purgatory.**

“And I don’t belong there I am guessing.” Harry sighs at least grateful for that. 

**Not unless you wish to, there are many that languish there. I can not say that it is a good fate, but such is the end of those that fall through the arch to this plane. There are those though that cannot cross. They are stuck there torn apart by their own doings.**

“Voldemort.” Harry understands.

 **Yes an abomination of a man. I am not supposed to have opinions of my clients, however, none have split their soul quite like him. One tear is all it takes to be sentenced to purgatory and he completed 7 be the one that resides inside of you, the small shard is and was not intentional.**

“So it is still there then.” Harry rubbed at his face because that is just his luck that even in death, he is still tethered to that man. 

**Yes, there is no clean way for me to remove it either, it would have to be the creator himself that does it and he is currently scattered around Purgatory. There is no good way to piece him back together either, at least not in this plane. He is a stubborn unstable creature of his own making.**

The door to the house is now open and it looks very similar to Petunia's home if she had picked variations of gray and black to her horrible white and pink decor. 

**Sit please, there is much to discuss. I shall make tea.**

It is strange to see a thing like Death take such care moving around, the furniture is large to fit him, and Harry feels very small sitting on the large leather sofa. Death has said that he is his master. And he can only theorize how that is possible. He had owned at one point 2 of the Deathly Hallows and had briefly held the third when he had gone to the forest to die. So at one point he had held and owned all 3. 

**Your thoughts are loud, young Master. I can hear the turmoil in your soul, you worry what responsibilities and the implications are of being the Master of Death himself.**

“Well yes, because this is a lot to take in, a few minutes or hours ago, I honestly don’t know. I was perfectly fine alive and well and then I was just Avadaed and chucked through an archway to have a discussion with you.”

The entity laughs at this, laughs as if the universe has a sick sense of humor. 

**I would suppose that it is the abbreviated version of things.** Thin fingers fold themselves momentarily. **This has only happened once before, my previous Master did not wish to be after a few reincarnations. He grew quite tired of living. It seemed no matter how much work he did while he was alive there were always more things to do. He wanted to rest a long time before the next round of rebirth. However, by the time that he was done napping, he decided that being dead was far better than the worries of the flesh.**

“And who was the first master?” Harry is now curious. 

**You may know him as Merilin perhaps, he went by many names. His story changed ever so with centuries of time, the truth is he was driven a bit loopy from all the different timelines that he knew of having made a royal mess out of rebirth and trying to fix the problems he saw. War had a great impact on his mind and perhaps one is just not meant to meddle too much with time and passage of life.**

As a tea try makes its way into the room. Death pours drinks with great elegance. He seems used to hosting. Harry takes his cup from him and takes a sip of it, and it is unlike anything that he has ever tasted. It is amazing as if nothing can ever compare with it. Perhaps the tale of Persephone held some merit. 

**The question I suppose comes as what do you wish to do with the powers that you have obtained. I am bound by my vows and am more than capable of granting many of your wishes within reason. Do you wish to help me, warden, this plan perhaps, return to the world of the living as a reincarnate?**

“I am curious about the soul fragment that is inside of me. Is it going to cause me any problems, whether I stay here or am reincarnated?”

 **Hard to say.** Death takes a sip of his own drink after he has mixed some sort of powder into it that maybe sugar of some sort. **The worst that can happen here is that you could get stuck in Purgatory any time you would wander that way. Though if you were to go back and redo the life that you have lived, like Merlin had for instance. I think that you will still reach the same fate. Albus would still be very persistent that his choice was made for the greater good. I would however argue.**

Yes, that man had to be somewhere in this place. Harry could not help himself from frowning deeply. He had some real choice words that he would like to throw in his face. He takes another sip of his tea as he needs to calm down. 

As Death drowns on in his soft and calming voice. 

**Even perhaps in a future birth, as you will be born with a mark. That ridiculous Riddle has cursed you in a way I am afraid. Unless you could find a way to get him to take the shard back.**

“How would I even do that? You mentioned that he was some elusive creature roaming the mists of Purgatory. Could I trap the shards and build it back to a more reasonable person that could take the shard out.” 

**If it were that simple, dear Master I would have done so. No, there are just shards consumed by madness that are near impossible to collect. Even if I were to try to put them together, force them to glue, it will not last. There is no remorse in him, no regret but the pain he has brought himself. One could perhaps piece him together in the land of the living. There is magic that could create one object or vessel for his soul shards until he could accept them back.**

“Not many options then if I want to live a normal life.” Harry leans back on the sofa. “You know that was really all I wanted. I just wanted a family that loved me, a job that didn’t risk limbs, and just to enjoy the little things.”

**And when I was young, I wanted to create life. We don’t always get what we wish. No matter how we wish it. Though unlike me that kills with a simple touch outside this realm, you can do something about it.**

“Like go back and do it all over, removing the mark and keeping Voldemort from killing hundreds of people?” 

**You would not be able to go back before the first war with him. The best that I could do would be to have you be born into the life you just departed from. It would be the one chance that would work if you wanted to remove that taint.**

“I feel like I need something stronger than Tea. What you are suggesting is that I make good terms with the person that will kill my parents, before I am able to really communicate to them the danger that they will be in.”

**Is that so much of a problem?**

“Yes, he killed people that mattered to me.” 

**To be fair most of the people you know that die, would not have died yet. And your parents, you hardly knew them and the times that you have seen them are all but illusions or flashes. The stone can only bring back what you envision a person that has died to be like and how they would act. A rather tricky bit of magic from me, based on the memories I have access to from the dead and the holders. One can’t really raise what has been dead, I can stop and reanimate my Master as long as there is a body to bring back to, but they tossed you through the vale and trust me that is able to tear everything away from a person. The other time you saw them, I would say that it was pure luck that they were able to be torn from my plane, not a good experience for them.**

“I suppose that it wouldn’t make sense to someone that encounters the loss of life on a second, minute, by minute basis but it is still not something that I am really able to forgive.”

 **Then don’t expect Riddle to want to take that soul shard out of you. If you hate him, then there is no way that you can convince him to have remorse for his actions or to take the shard out of you.**

Death says this like he is already bored with this conversation and that Harry is straight out of luck if he is unable to take this into account. 

“Fuck me…” Harry scrubs at his face.

 **That is a very odd request.** Death tilts his skeleton head to the side.

“That is not what I meant. I just… I don’t really hate him. Yes, I want to, oh I really want to. But the more that I think about him the more pathetic that he is and the more that I am pissed that my options are very limited because of his selfish stupidity.” 

**Ah.** is all that Death says as he finishes his tea and refills his cup. **Perhaps pity can be a good motivator for you. I have seen many pictures of animals in distress, and how that motivates people to save them.**

“Tom Riddle is not some stray puppy that I can just pick up, hug, and everything will be much better. He is an abused animal that has turned feral. He is going to reject any help that I give him, tooth, nail, and claw.” 

**Glad to see that you have at least thought about the possibility now to help him.**

“Oh God Damn it.” Harry shakes his head. “I must be going insane or you are going through some word game hoops that is making me consider this. What would benefit you out of all this, to make me want to save him?”

**Well for one, there would be one less anomaly in my realm and I can give him proper placement upon his second death into the burning circles. Unless of course, he has a change of heart, then perhaps somewhere else. I like things to be in order and I will not deny that we could solve both of our problems.**

Death leans forward in his chair. **So what do you say, Master, would you like a second chance to do it all over again?**

~/*\~

Two proud parents welcome a baby into the world that has black hair and green eyes. The baby remembers all that he is and knows that soon they will no longer be with him, even with his attempted warning. Things play out like they are meant to as fate has dictated. 

Death assures him that some things must be. 

A lightning bolt finds itself on his forehead, and he finds himself at the mercy of the Dursleys. But not for long. Harry waits until his magic core is developed enough and then he takes everything that the Durselys own in one swoop all the valuables belong to him, money, and memories. They won’t remember ever having a nephew or that he came to live with them. It is nice compared to what he could have done. He apparates ready to start his adventure.

~/*\~

A man stands in front of a stained glass window. He has plans on top of plans, plans that are about to crash and burn as an owl nearly smacks itself against the glass frame. In its beak is word from his planted squib spy. 

Harry Potter the chosen one has vanished. He has vanished without a sound, without a trace, or ward disturbed. It is as if he has never been in Surrey, never been a resident of Pivot Drive. Harry had not been old enough to go to school and had been kept inside, for the most part, so not many even knew the boy was a permanent guest of the Durselys. Albus can not raise the alarm that the chosen one is missing. It will not only plunge the Wizarding World into chaos but it will cause him to suffer the greatest of all humiliations.

How could one misplace a 4-year-old boy, one that they swore to protect?

How did someone get to Harry within the wards?

And more importantly, was Voldemort on the move again, and was there a way to stop him without one Harry James Potter?


	2. Gathering Soul Shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets used to his new life and starts collecting Horcruxes.

The wind is harsh and it makes strong hollowing noises as the air is forced through the compact sandwiched together shops. Branches of the finely trimmed tree creak and are shaking and bringing down the heavy rains. A very small cloaked figure is making his way hurriedly down that path of London. The rain is rolling off of his enchanted robe, the outline of him is the only thing that is viable as the cloak is an invisibility one that Death has easily retrieved for his Master. It is probably the sole thing that the other has not complained about helping out with as his cloak has no business being so far from his master. Harry is pretty sure the assist is purely because he despises having to listen to Albus complain in the afterlife. 

The small boy opens the pub door and no one notices the soggy puddles that are forming under his feet. He needs to make it to the potions store so he can steal and then buy enough ingredients to make a very particular potion. He has never had a need for such a thing before but he needs it now because he knows that he can not make it in this world without a wand. Yes, he can do some magic without one, but considering all that he needs to accomplish things would be a lot simpler with something to amplify and focus his magic. 

Death has already taken care of any binds that were in place, and compulsions that were there to stay with his relatives, and of course traces. It was Harry's way of having a head start. He enters the potions shop with the creak of floorboards, and takes several potions from the shelves softly, carefully, as the man that runs the place looks for someone that is taller and deems that it must have been the horrible wind that had left his door a crack open. When he is outside Harry downs the small vile in his hand. Age potions we're really going to come in handy. 

He now looks at least 25 and considering that his body was that of a 4-year-old moments ago, the invisibility cloak hardly fits around him. He quickly changes clothes in the alleyway and steps forward, with his hood pulled up to his black plane robe, it has no recognizable marks, and he blends with the very few that dare to be out in this type of night. 

He steps through the door to a shop that smells of sawdust, and old parchment. The bell rings alerting the old man that stumbles down the stairs confused that someone would have entered his shop so late at night. 

Harry takes down his hood and makes sure with a careful move messes his wet hair over his scar, it is his way of showing that he is harmless. The movement shows that he is not here to cause any problem and if he does there is a face to go with it. Harry has gold and all he wants out of this is his wand.

“Bless my soul.” The old man holds his chest. “James, is it you?” 

Harry’s smile falters a little as he realizes that he is probably a very close replica. “Who is James?” 

He hopes that his lie does just come out as confusion. Harry has a hard time lying, as the compulsions that he had were to make him honest. But even with them gone he still is not a liar. He hates them if he is going, to be honest. 

“I am sorry, it's just there is a striking resemblance to a friend of mine.” The man’s gray eyes are studying him, looking into his eyes but after a moment they do deflect themselves away from his. “How may I be of service to you tonight?” 

“I recently ran into some rather unfortunate circumstances and am in need of a new wand. The one I had was broken beyond repair, I am afraid.” 

Which was completely honest as Harry’s old wand had been broken beyond repair, his new wand had been the elder, and he wondered who picked it off of him after he was dead. 

“You have come to the right place, Mr…” Ollivander tilted his head. 

Harry is tempted to say Potter just to mess with him, but he doesn’t. 

“Morte.” 

He responds as he has taken on Death’s last name. He feels closer to the Reaper considering that he has helped him get by the first 3 years of life. It is by some sick miracle that he was able to survive the first time around. Death has made it as a joke that he had wanted to be a parent but never thought that it would be like this. Morte is a way of perhaps getting back at him if he is listening. 

Ollivander, of course, does not know this reference and hardly bats an eye at the word Dead being used as a last name. He brings out the wands, and Harry tells him of his old wand being of Holly but lies about the core being that of a unicorn hair. 

Things sort themselves and Ollivander gives him his old wand, without much resistance. He doesn’t remark that it is curious, nor does he say much about the way the wand reacts to him. Feats of magic that have been displayed would be expected of an adult. He takes the wand and makes a few other stops for ingredients and books that he will need. He even takes a few more shady roots to Knockturn Alley to get an extra wand. 

He then apparatus as his potion is about to wear off. 

~/*\~

There is a house that is hidden to all the muggles that pass by. The house looks like it is part of the small townhomes and apartments. It is compact between the Muggle properties but spacious on the inside. The wards allow the Godson Black into its doors. And just like that 4-year-old Harry Potter has a home, a house-elf that he easily befriends and 2 out of 6 Horcruxes as he will never allow Nagini to be made. It is not a bad start all things considered. 

The place is still filthy and Harry has much work to get it into order. There are a few things that could be better. Having the body of a child means teaching his hands and his fingers, the movements that they are not capable of yet, having no muscle memory to draw back on. So the cleaning spells are his real first use of his wand. 

**Such tacky decorating.** Death leans against the far wall that has a large family tapestry that Harry is taking off the walls, putting it all into trunks. He knows that most of it would have been tossed by Sirius if he had a chance. But looking back on everything that he sees he can not do that. Its history and there is no telling what could be useful. 

“It's at least better than Petunia's living room.” Harry wipes his small brow. 

**If one is into more gothic decor, where the main accents are dust and cobwebs.** Death runs a bony hand along the door frame and disturbs the dust that is there. 

“Is there a reason for your stop in?” Harry raises an eyebrow. 

**I was in the area, brutal murders down the road from here, that are to take place in 3 minutes.**

“Never thought that I would be used as a way to kill time for the entity of death himself.” Harry shakes his small head.

 **It’s the least you can do after making me watch you nearly die and wasting my time on 21 separate occasions.**

“Right, sorry that I am not sorry about that.” Harry smirked. 

**So is this where you are planning to set up shop predominantly?**

“For the foreseeable future yes. I have a lot of research to do. It’s not like there is a resurrection ritual for dummies laying around, and I need to study excessively if I am to make a break into Gringotts to get another bit of Tom’s soul.” 

**If you are going to break into that place, I would like it if you were able to steal something that might be of use for you and then destroy it.**

“Would this object happen to be a stone?” 

Death does not respond with more than a large grin that makes the lights that are in his eye sockets flash. **Would it be a problem if it was?**

“No, but I think that stealing the philosopher's stone would be quite the challenging feat. Is there a particular reason that you really would like it destroyed, besides making one man and his wife very rich and live a long time?”

**Let's just say that there is a reason that none have been able to replicate the making process and the hundreds of souls that were used to make the thing I would like to rest.**

“What…” Harry sputters. 

**Would you look at the time, I have to go collect 5 souls that are for sure to be headed towards the good part of the afterlife.** And with that Death was gone. 

~/*\~  
Harry spends a good part of the year learning all that he can about traps that he might encounter before he takes on the challenge of getting the ring that resides in the old Gaunt home. Death is a little too pleased with the idea of coming along to collect another one of his artifacts. The only thing that the other will be good for is reanimating his boy should he die rather painfully. 

The place is worse in person than in the memoires that he has seen. Right the ring should be in the floorboards towards the back of the place. Even if it has not been used for anything in years, the home smells like death and urine. It was possible that a few druggies had held themselves up in rooms that weren’t boobytrapped. Or the rotten smell was bodies that were long since decomposed. He held his wand in his hand and carefully traced. The air with it, there were very complex arrays etched into the walls.

They glow red and pulse with dark intents. Which Harry has quickly discovered is really all there is to make a spell powerful, intent, and will for that thing to happen. And Tom had a very vindictive will, for any that would have come into the place. He wonders just how many are victims to the curses that are laying in here mostly dormant. He can almost feel the dread filling him, that is magically imposed. Such a strong compulsion that is equal parts for him to run and to keep coming into the room, closer to the place where the arches all reach. 

“Impressive.” Harry mutters to himself moving slowly towards the floorboard where they all connected themselves, there was something there. It was dark and corrupted. He could feel it and Death has trailed himself towards the back of the room, his robe not even disturbing the thick layers of dirt and grime. 

The being is waiting to see if he will die, and on stand by will make sure that nothing happens to his body. Harry is vastly opposed to starting at square one. Having to live a year with his parents as an infant again and having to deal with the Dursleys is something that he can not go through a third time. He would hit Tom with a cruciatus the second he saw him if he had to go through the torment of nearly being drowned by his negligent aunt again. 

He slowly closes his eyes and draws upon the magic that is inside of him, the part that is not exactly his. That lingers in a very small sliver in his soul, he reaches his hand forward and the floorboards creak as the darkness that is almost all-encompassing. The darkness shifts and trails up towards his hands and he opens his eyes and grips at it with his own light magic trapping the dark and it fights and thrashes itself against the barrier that he has made.

“Got you.” He almost laughs. The thing had wanted easy prey and a chance to feed off of the magic. It is sad really, its need to become whole. It wants to bond with the piece in him, but he won’t allow it to. 

The ring falls uselessly to the floor as a small shard of black constantly twisting magical energy struggles to get free. Harry forces it into the locket. The two shards collide and fight at each other until they are forced to settle and the locket that is hanging off of his wrist stops thrashing. 

**How utterly anticlimactic.** Death makes his way closer to him, touching the locket and the soul shards that are inside scream out. Even the peace in him reacts. 

Harry moves the locket away from him, taking a step back.  
**Protective are you, Master? Not to worry I am not hurting dear little Tom. I am assessing the damage. The shards are at least able to recognize each other and are as close as they can be without being glued back together.**

“I suppose that is a good thing, and no I am not necessarily protective. I just can feel that. I feel the need to be away from you.”

**They probably sensed what Purgatory would be like. I sent the shards there as each part was destroyed.**

“Perhaps you should have collected them, first and banished them together.” Harry sighs. 

**I could have but there would still be some missing.** Death taps his scar and because he is the Master of Death currently it is the only reason that Harry is still alive. Death if he is to touch anyone else would have caused them to die, of course, he only touched those that’s time were up. But it still sends a chill through him.

Harry pretends not to be bothered though and steps away from him and aperates home he has successfully received now 3 out of 6. The other ones are the ones that might be a bit challenging to get to there was the one in the vault, the one located in one of the many Malfoy estates, and then the one that was in Hogwarts. 

How much of the soul did he have, that was the question, he needed at around half if he wanted a semi-sane Tom to try and deal with. He refuses to call him Lord Voldemort as that is just a ridiculous name and he will tell him that the second that he has the power to. 

Digging into the mess that makes the evil things that he is currently holding has really opened Harry’s eyes to the insanity that Tom had been. After the first two, it was almost like he didn’t have enough soul to be even the least bit sane. He would have been quickly spiraling into madness before he even started his war, so perhaps one could not completely hold him to all the actions that he had committed because each snap off of a soul cuts emotions, memories, and magic out of a person. It doesn't mean that Harry is forgiving him any time soon, if ever.

Harry unwound the Locket from his wrist, setting it on the work desk. Trying to plan out his next few moves. Okay, so the first Horcrux that was made contained about half of the soul and was the diary, and then it was the ring that he had so that was probably around a fourth or half of the half that was left in Voldemort when he made it. 

He needed a piece of paper… this was going to get confusing real fast. 

~/*\~

By his calculations and that was assuming that a soul split in half each time… which he knew to be only partially true thanks to Death, he had come up with the following calculations.

Diary---- 50%

Ring- ----25%

Locket--12.5%

Cup-----6.25%

Diatem-3.125

Himself- 1.5%

And Tom whatever was left of that little shit 1.5 as well. 

So in essence going for the diadem was probably not the best choice based on the percentages, but when you were just trying to get to that about half you would take what you could get and it seemed that it would be easiest to go for that rather than breaking into a random Malfoy manor. He would have to break into the bank and so with those all combined he was going to get about half without the diary. He would convince Tom to help him get the rest of it, as there was no way that Harry was going to be going to school and sit there waiting for Lucius to pull that thing out of hiding. 

He wanted nothing to do with that school, he wanted nothing to do with the people that went there. Call him petty, but it had been his supposed friends that had made the decision to kill him and there was no way that he was going to be heading back to a place and put his trust into people that wouldn’t want to stand up to their fear in the very end. 

Least with Death he had insured loyalty and when he did get Tom pierced together betrayal would be expected. 

He sighed, tapping his pen on the paper. Hogwarts wouldn’t be the hardest thing to sneak into. He played with the locket that was around his neck. He hadn't even thought too much about putting it there. It though was the safest place for it. Kreacher was weary of the thing. The small piece that was in him, reacted positively to the shards. They were not as unstable the more soul that they came in contact with. They almost had the ability to calm him, which was equally disgusting as it was interesting. 

~/*\~

There was the soft sound of the rain hitting the window, as the clouds rolled in and a storm was brewing. The castle had always been peaceful with the sound of rain against the rows of stones that make up the high ceilings. 

Harry Potter had been missing for just about a year now, and Albus was no closer to locating him. It was a real mess. He was at the end of the rope, with no leads, and none of the usual signs that Voldemort had returned. He had to bring someone into these investigations, perhaps that would be able to help him comb through the data. 

Someone sworn to secrecy. He stroked his beard and sent an owl to summon Severus to his side. If there was anyone that could confirm if there were any Death Eaters involved than it would be him. He might have to bring in a few others as they might be able to monitor the Ministry for him. He needed as many ears to the ground as he could. He knew that Harry Potter was at the very least alive, as the only one of his spells that had not been eliminated was the one that was keyed to a clock in his office, as long as it ticked the boy-who-lived was still worthy of the title. 

Snape appears later that evening when the rain has picked up to a storm of magical proportions. It is almost like it is a sign. He is wearing black on black, such a look fitting of a past Death Eater and the perfect little spy that could easily turn martyr. His cold eyes look at him and Dumbledore does not need to put up pretenses that he is a good person. Severus has seen what lurks behind his smile. Still, the best he can do is at least welcome him.

“It is good that you came, Severus, my boy. ” He says it as both a welcome and hint of a threat because the man is certainly his. What with the promises that he has sworn. 

“Albus.” He bows his head slightly, “To what do I owe the honor of coming here in the middle of the night.” 

Ever the well-spoken Slytherin with an attitude problem. 

“I would like to know if there has been any news from your former side.”

“As I have mentioned in my letters I have not received any news from any of the remaining Death Eaters that have managed not to get themselves locked up.” 

“Nothing from your mark.” He makes his voice harden. 

“It has not so much as twitched.” Snape is starting to look uncomfortable. 

Good if there was anything that he was hiding he would spill it if he knew what was good for him. 

They stare at each other for a very long moment and the lighting flashes, illuminating the office space. 

“I hope you can forgive me for pushing you, I have had the most troubling news as of late in reference to the boy-who-lives.” 

He watches Severus’s face carefully; it is a mask, but he can see hints that tell him that he is surprised by the subject matter that they are about to discuss. 

“What about the boy.” Snape lets out a very loud audible sigh.

“He is missing.” 

And there it is, the mask shatters completely. 

“What? How?” Severus is hardly holding back his anger. “You said that you were watching him.”

“And I was, there was no dark magical disturbance in the neighborhood, there were no broken wards, no signs of a struggle. The only nameable thing that was cast was a memory charm that essentially obviated his Muggle relatives.”

“I told you that you should not have placed him with those Muggles, they would be no match for anyone that was magical, but you were so sure of those bloody wards.” 

“Severus, I don’t like your tone.” He cuts him off. 

And just like that the puppet in front of him, stops speaking, though he looks like he really wants to continue as his face is red and his body is trembling with rage.

“I don’t need to hear your assessment of my decision, I already know that there were flaws with it. What I need is for you to keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Of course.” Snape calmly responds as if that switch has been flipped and he is trying to blend back to the more reserved person that he is. 

“Good.” Dumbledore folds his hands in front of him. “I also request that you begin working on another batch of those potions. I will need them soon enough.” 

~/*\~

_There is a flash of green that bathes the whole world in it. The world is distorted by it. The person that is pointing the wand at him is crying. Her smile is weak and her brown eyes are shiny by the motion. There are others that are coming forward from the shadows, they blur together. But there are those that have burning red hair. He feels his heart being forced to stop and there is no way to move, blink, or speak as this is the last few seconds of his existence. It is painful, it trickles through him and dulls. He can hear the voices, they are calling to him whispering and the shadows pull him back into the black._

Harry wakes clutching at his chest and his fingers wrap themselves around a locket that is slightly warm to the touch. He can feel the shards shifting around in there. He holds them and wills his breathing to return to normal. As soon as he realizes that he is holding the locket again he drops it, pulls it off of him, and places it a safe distance away from himself. 

He runs his hand through his short hair and feels like he is the little kid that his body reflects. He is too old to seek comfort from things like necklaces, especially if that thing is poisoned by dark magic and a murder’s soul. 

Godric bless him. 

He stands on shaking little legs and makes his way towards the shower. 

“Does the little master need something?” Kreacher creeps out of his room. 

“No, I am fine thanks.” Harry says before pausing. “Perhaps some tea would be nice.”

“Kreacher can do this.” The elf bows and Harry thanks him. 

Harry steps into the shower and lets the steam purge the image of sad brown eyes looking at him as if she was really sorry. He grips the skin where his heart is, funny how love was the very thing that had helped him defeat the great evil that was Voldemort, was the very same magic that had poisoned him and killed him as well.

He tries to think why he loved her so much?

Why had he ignored the way his gut had told him something was off?

He shook his head, he can’t focus on these things, they are done, they are over and there is nothing that he can do about them. If everything works out then he will no longer suffer that same fate. But even if those things have not happened, even if the person that he loved so much has not even contemplated this action. He still feels betrayed and he can never think of that smiling face without seeing the way that she took his hand and led him to his death. 

Tears mix with steam. 

Voldemort had been correct, he was a fool to love… 

He still was living, and he was living without that word. His heart was still beating through a horrible ache. He wanted to live still even with it. He wanted to continue on and perhaps the only reason that he wanted to do all this was selfish. But then he had always been that perfect person he was supposed to be, brave and selfless. This time around he was fine with being selfish. He didn’t need to love anyone else but himself...


	3. Coronets and Lillies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry breaks into Hogwarts to collect another bit of Tom's soul. He makes a lot of people nervous.

Living for yourself should not have been as hard as it was. Harry should have been relieved to cut ties with everything and everyone, and not be upset at all by the prospect of not making friends with people that were just destined not to understand. Because how would one explain the need to get the soul shard out of one’s head to a normal person. How could he possibly be friends with any of the people that had betrayed him, but also would not even be close to his age in maturity? 

But it's hard. It is so hard for someone that has only ever felt at home in the company of others to completely shut themselves away from the thought of friends, and later in life a family. He supposes that it is his curse that he will always care for people even if they were just using them to meet their own ends. 

He doesn’t think that Sirius or Remus would have handed him over, but it’s not like he really needs an adult figure in his life and he can’t think that they would be pleased that he is going to revive someone that he watched kill his parents… twice. 

Still he does feel bad that Sirius is in prison for a crime that he did not commit. He feels bad that he can not exactly make a move on that yet. He might have use for Peter or at least his flesh if creating a resurrection potion was the way to go. He was not sacrificing his hand, as he was not a servant of Tom in any sense of the word. He might be helping him but he would have still considered himself not quite a full-fledged enemy but certainly not an alley. He ran his fingers over the bumps of the emeralds that made up the snake on the locket as it seems to twitch. 

He was now a 6 years old body wise. It was his birthday and he was on a trip to London for a meal out, he had drank an age potion so that he could enjoy a little alcohol as he felt that with all the shit that he had been working on that this would at least be somewhat of a break from everything. He had laid off taking age potions as they were not good to take long term, but this was just going to be a special occasion. He had brewed one to last 48 hours and he wanted to do things that would gather suspicion if he were to do them at his supposed current age. 

Drinking was one of them as well as acquiring more dark magic books. A lot of people are not willing to send books like that without a meeting, and Harry has to be cautious in case it is a ministry trap. They wanted nothing better than to catch and fine people that they considered to be practicing the Dark Arts. 

Voldemort had made a problem that was present in England even more of one. Everything was Dark nowadays.

Dark was rather a very subjective term. The things that he was gathering were not completely evil, a lot of it was used for healing. He could not say that it was blood-free, but it was something that was only evil if you were to use it to hurt. A lot of strong warding charms used blood, and what Dumbledore would have done to make his previous residence safe from everything but the evil that had dwelled on the inside. 

He was making progress on the resurrection magical department but he still needed to gather the needed Horcruxes and had no idea how he was going to get into that bank vault. At least the drink in his hand is helping. He had not really ever had a thing for drinking. Underage drinking had happened a few times after Gryffindor matches but really legally he had never been able to relax long enough to actually attempt such a thing. His 17 was spent on the run from Voldemort and his followers. There had never been a time that he could forget that he was on the run and the times that they had to lay low he felt more and more like a caged animal and needed to be ready for the slightest chance it would go wrong and to flee again. One could not be influenced when they needed to be ready to apparate away. 

His life had always been a mess, long before the Battle of Hogwarts came to wreck his shit. Those are the nightmares that really get to him. The weeping and the dead children that laid on the ground. His classmates, acquaintances, teachers, friends, and families all alike were torn apart. They were all there spread on the ground. Their deaths haunt him. It matters not that they have not died yet, or that they choose to fight. He has seen what madness and obsession has caused Voldemort to do. 

The most real conversations that Harry had with Voldemort had been when he was Tom Riddle and that was a mess of anger, resentment, and ambition. Harry couldn’t pinpoint it but perhaps the need to prove himself has been what pushed Tom over the edge. He grew up with no love, perhaps with muddled feelings on how to feel. Being in the orphanage regardless would make him what to be unique, being that way would have translated to perhaps benefits, care, and the possibility of adoption which would have been a golden ticket to freedom. 

Harry was not like that. He had wanted to be loved, sure, but he had strived to be like everyone else. Normality and the ability to blend into the background was in his best interest with the Dursleys. Being Normal had perhaps translated to survival because if Harry was not thee Harry Potter then he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. No one would be searching for him, no one would ask him to die for them, and no one would have been trying to kill him at every turn. 

He is going to revive someone that’s ambitions destroyed them. Someone that could not move past their anger, and perhaps even partial self resentment for being left behind, abandoned, by Muggles of all things. And Harry did not know if there was a way to save someone that was like that. He didn’t know if Tom would be predisposed to causing others a great amount of harm, or if he would at least be able to look at Harry’s memories and see how far that he slipped. 

How would the Dark Lord’s ambitions change if he saw all that he became was a sociopath that murdered hundreds of people, tortured more, and divided rather than unified all because he was afraid of death?

More importantly what would Harry do when the soul shard was out of him. His life had always revolved around the next big quest that consequently revolved around Tom. It would be hard to detangle himself from this pet project. His hand ran again against the locket. Perhaps once it was all done he would just free Sirius and they could travel and avoid whatever backlash would come from helping Tom. Sirius didn’t need to know the role that Harry had played in it. 

**A penny or knut for your thoughts Master.**

There is a woman sitting across from him, she has black glittering eyes and is wearing something that was quite conservative for the time. He knows it is Death purely but the tone of voice alone.

“Hello Morte.” Harry greets. “Is there a particular reason that you are here?” 

**I needed a break, dear Harry and since time is relative, I can be here and everywhere at once. The afterlife grows dull with no one to talk to but a few of my assistants. So then I had an idea. Why not visit when it is such an important day for my Master. The day that the great life graced him with her presence.**

A thin hand resets itself on a porcelain-like white cheek even with the pressure that should have been there, Death’s face remains perfectly rounded and it's almost eerie the way that his hair swings as if there is some magic affecting it. 

“Yes I am not 6 or am I a combined total of my lives at 23 ?” Harry sighs. 

**Going on one thousand by the way that you have such a look set on your face. Harry I was hoping that a second chance at life would be fun for you. Humans usually like life far better than they like me. Yet it is like part of you remains with me in the vail.**

Death plays with the drink that is now being delivered to him, and Harry notices the way that the man averts his eyes when Death smiles at him. It is as if the man knows somehow that there is something off about the form. And Harry will not deny that while Death has chosen to look like an attractive female to most, there is that posture, that cool feeling to the air around him or her. Death probably does not truly have a sex or gender.

“Perhaps it has.” Harry doesn’t bother to hide the way that he feels. He has grown closer to the being that sits taking slow sips of his drink because the voice just came out that way to him. 

**Where was that fire to want to live, when you were in limbo and met with the man that chose to wait for you. You wanted to come back to this plane, more than you wanted anything else.**

“I think that part of me died when I realized that Normality is not really achievable. Why am I even doing this, really? Perhaps it would have been better to just have been recantated without my memories and lived somewhere outside of Britain. It is not like the light wizards would brother to track me that far as they would think him gone for good.” 

**You would be taking his soul with you, about 2% of him is tied to you, and while that is such a very small piece it would mean that he would follow you, and I can not guarantee that it wouldn’t cause you problems. Parts of corrupted souls can be seen by some and influence others. The locket for example from your first life deeply affected your friends.**

“Knowing my luck it would affect my new caregivers, making them no better than the Durselys.” 

**They are an interesting brand of evil people. Don’t worry too much about that Vernon, there is a special part of the burning circle for him rest assured. Just as there is a place should you wish it for Riddle there.**

“How do you pick placements for people?” Harry finally gave into temptations. 

**It is not that I pick them, a person makes choices dear master, the universe is not completely just or good, there is no proper order to things the way that you humans wish to make it. There is the big lie of justice and what is right, as those are very blurred things. There is in light of these things heavens based on people’s belief in them. Purgatory is for broken souls and those that do not believe that there is anything after death, there are heavens that subscribe to the Muggle religions and Magical ones, then there are the burning circles. And the end results of where a soul goes is completely based on where a soul believes that they shall go.**

Death finished his drink and doesn’t at all seem affected, those black eyes look into his, and he can feel that deep coldness in the air.

“And you are sure that Tom should he have a whole soul and my Uncle would go to the burning circles? Tom seems like the type that would believe in his own importance and wouldn’t go there.” 

**He was raised by Muggles, in a time where Christianity was nearly drilled into all in Europe. I am not saying that it is right or wrong. I am purely saying that is how it was, he was often forced to go to church, and perhaps that is where he first had thoughts that there was no god, but he does believe in a hell of sorts for people that have done things that he has done. Perhaps why he is obsessed with not joining the afterlife, or because he just would see Death, or rather me as a weakness.**

Death leans forward. **The truth is most people that have done horrible things, they deep down think that they deserve to suffer for them. Tom is no exception, he knows the pain that he has caused, he knows where his path could lead, the thing is he didn’t care. He couldn’t care, nor could he allow himself to regret.**

Death laughs nicely as he is given another drink as if they are having a very wonderful conversation. The waiter is captivated by him, he blushes and heads back quickly to another table away from him. Harry watches him go. He is young, and probably around the age that Harry is posing as. 

“Where do you think I will go?” Harry folds his hands in front of him. He would like to know.

**Till you fix your soul issue Purgatory, however after there are a lot of paths, I think the plane remembered where Seirus was sent and those that you consider to be family. They are at peace there, and I would like you to be happy for eternity Harry, you haven’t been happy nearly enough.**

It almost seems nice the thought of it, a place that there was no pain and he could be with and get to know the people that had been taken from him far too soon. It would be peaceful not running to the next thing. Not worrying about suffering some horrible fate. But of course even a peaceful afterlife is barred because of one Tom fucking Riddle. 

**Don’t forget to live, Harry. There is plenty of time to spend on my side of things.** Death has gripped onto his hand, and he can feel a slight pressure. Even if it is cold, and he is reminded of a dementor in a way that it's a pull of shadow, he doesn’t suffer from any of the horrible memories that can be brought from the things. 

**That reminds me, I have brought you a gift.**

Death waves his hand and a bracelet appears. The thing looks like a snake that is eating its own tail. 

**I have decided to gift you something that was very precious to me. It allowed one of my greatest friends to travel to and from my realm. You may know them as Anubis. They were an animagus back when the world was new, and people that had magic gave it freely and were not condemned. They understood that Death is not something that has to be feared. They coined the idea of a truly wonderful afterlife. And as such I gifted them 2 artifacts. One was a shroud and the other was an amulet.**

“I know a little about Ancient Egypt, I looked into it when I heard about some of the things that Ron saw when he went there for a trip. They say that only Anubis the god could pass from the afterlife, and back to the living as he was taking souls there and back.” 

**They were doing a bit more than that. They were coming to see me. The shroud was created to travel to me and the amulet was created to allow for them to return. They would help with the reaping of souls and in exchange, I would be their friend and teach them the ways of death, my magic. I made it to a bracelet for your conveyance, you already have a necklace.**

Harry runs his hand over the serpent that has green eyes of emeralds. It is strange in a way to think of Death having friends, but then he supposed that eternity would be quite lonely. It is probably why he pops to bother Harry so much and since time is relative to Death, there is endless amounts of it. 

**Point being he is employed in the afterlife by me and he no longer needs the artifact. The vail unfortunately is located under a man-made arch that has become somewhat of a doorway. But should you find yourself chucked through it, or in need to visit my realm? You would be safe in doing so.**

Harry can take this in a few ways. One is that Death wants him to visit and the second is that Death is planning ahead should anyone attempt to kill him in such a manner again, there would still be a body left. He has calmed one of the nightmares that Harry has had. And he slips the band onto his left wrist where it tightens down to fit perfectly.

“Thank you.” He nods to the entity that he knows is truly his friend. 

**You are most welcome**

~/*\~

There is a small house that his hidden, covered in charms and spells of the most powerful. None can enter this house that resides in a Muggle neighborhood. The old creaky house is all that was left to the man that sits at his desk, quill still in ink, and the letter before him has yet to dry. 

The man presses his thin fingers to his lips, and the long black hair sweeps forward as he hunches in on himself as the desk. The house has many memories, many of them are horrible and not for the faint of heart. There is always the urge to burn it the second that he enters the house, but the urge is always crushed by the place being the safest place for him as no one would guess to find him at the residence. He might also hold onto it because down the road from here is the house that Lily grew up in and he has much more fond memories of that place and the people that would help him on the particularly bad evenings where his home had felt like a prison. 

Severus Snape is tired. He is just tired. 

He has been tired for far too long carrying on with plans that have entangled him into a never-ending web. He has been pulled each way by Wizards that are far more powerful than him, and his own ambitions and foolishness. And yet he clings on, keeps pushing forward in a world that never will know the truth. 

There has been no new news about one Harry Potter. Now even with how hard Severus is looking for them. He has checked all the contacts that he has had, even stooping to interacting with some of the more shady Death Eaters that he knows are active in other things. 

And yet there is nothing. 

Severus made a promise to himself to protect Lily there had never been another single person that had been kind to him in the way that she had. He took that promise seriously when Petunia would fight with her, or when she was upset at school. He was not good at it, but he tried for her sake as she had hidden him away from his father and his wrath by sheltering him. 

He would have done near anything to keep her safe. Even after their falling out when he knew that he had messed up beyond repair. He cared nothing for James and he had not cared greatly about their possible offspring. He had cared only for Lily. 

However when he learns the lengths that she would and had gone through to protect her son it made it a bit more of a reality check for him that even if Lily had survived she would never have been okay with her son being killed by the Dark Lord. She would probably have been broken beyond repair and she never would have forgiven him. She never would have loved him the way that he had loved her. And even if she could there was no way that he had deserved it. He was selfish and his love for her had been clouded. If he had truly loved her like he should have when she was alive he would have let her be happy with James. He would have cared more about what could happen to them. He never would have taken the prophecy to Voldemort he would have changed sides right then and there with the risk to her and her son.

And so Snape had planned to honor the life debt that he had to Potter and to honor her memory by helping the boy to survive no matter what. It was to be his atonement. It was to be the only way that he could crush the guilt that made itself near all-encompassing. 

And so looking for young Harry had sent him across Europe and calling in favors. It was a delicate balancing act but Severus had always done it well. He could hide his deepest thoughts, desires, from he-who-shall-not-be-named and he figured that he played Albus well enough, considering the other had thought him valuable enough not to languish in Azkaban which really was the place that he deserved to be. 

He knows he has done horrible things and gone down so far that his shovel had broken and he had still been trying to tap at the dirt with the back end of the handle. It had taken the Dark Lord wanting to go after the only person that had ever truly cared for him that really hit Severus hard enough to try and use the broken end to climb his way out. 

The only scrap of news that he was hearing was there was a Wizard that bore a resemblance to James Potter that was running around. The Wizard was so convening that there were people that were saying that James and his wife had faked their deaths and truly went into hiding after vanquishing the Dark Lord. 

Having held Lily and passed her husband on the stairs. He knows that she is no longer with him. He had stayed until Sirius came, in hiding. He had been told that Harry was going somewhere safe. Yes Petunia and her family were horrible, but he had trusted… 

He had trusted that he would be safe… 

He feels the tightening of his chest. All of it had been his fault that the Potters were no longer alive and now a young Harry Potter was missing. He was gone, and who knew how long that he would be alive or if he was safe or well. 

Severus knew one thing though, the James look-alike was not James. However if someone was trying to take that identity they might be able to provide some insight to the boy's disappearance. If he did find the boy he was not letting Albus near him, the man had already sunken his claws in and the damage had already been done. Snape would not let anything else happen to him. 

~/*\~

The castle is such a sight to behold. Harry can not help but stare at it and feel that way that he felt the first time that he had seen it as a first-year. The place truly was magical, it even affected the air around it and now that he was in tune more than ever with his magic and magic in general he can see the beautifully constructed wards that are there to protect students that have returned for the new school year. 

He holds the cloak close to him as he stands invisible to all that pass him in the small village that is full of pretty plants and chattering people. It is a nice fall evening and they all want to be out and about. Harry stays out of their way as they bustle by. The sky is never-ending as he takes the forest path closer to the school. He can see from his place on the hills Hagrid's hut and knows there is a fire going as there is smoke drifting into the endless starry sky. 

There is something humbling about being outside like this, there is a lot of life that is around him. He wonders if this is how Death sees it. There are hundreds of lives below him and in front of him. They are living peacefully drifting day to day. Pressing on to find what makes them happy. 11 years old and the world was open to a person that never thought they were anything special, that had run away from home.

Harry would like to feel that again about now. 

Looking back on it, it probably was pretty dumb of him to take Hagrid’s word and word alone. But that was what it was like to be young and full of life. 

He makes his way into the grounds easily through one of the many secret passages, and the wards recognize him, or they recognize one of the founder's attachments to the soul that he was wearing. He would not pretend to know, all that mattered was making it to the room or requirement and getting that should piece back. 

The walk-in Hogwarts feels unreal. There was so much destruction that it was hard to even picture the restoration of Hogwarts being able to bring back the magic that thrummed in the halls. He watches the children around him, as they laugh and talk about the latest lesson. Severus Snape steps out of one of the side classrooms. Harry pauses watching the man as he scowls at the children passing him. 

“Finech, 5 points from Ravenclaw, for such a nauseating display of public affection.” 

Harry turns and he can see the Ravenclaw in question back away from someone that was on a small ledge beside him. They had probably been making out. Harry snorted softly at the way the older man had his lip curled. 

He carefully steps past the watchful head of house and makes it up the many cobblestone stairs towards the room of requirements. The room starts to form in front of him as he tells the caste what it needs, all that he needs, and wills it to come to him. The wall shifts and changes to give him entry. 

The room has thousands of objects that are stacked to the ceiling. Most of it is junk but there are things that could be useful. He needs the Diadem but there are so many things there that could be equally useful. How many students might have needed to hide a book that would have been considered too dark for them to be caught reading? How many objects here could be worth something. He had access to his gold if he went to the bank, but at the moment he is hiding and living off the grid. 

He has been selling off the things that he knows for sure he does not need from the Black home and he knows have no attachments. There could be things that could be useful to him to barter with to get some of the things that he needs for Tom and some of the darker things that he needs to acquire might be a bit easier if they knew he dealt with dark artifacts too.

So Harry orders the room to sort things. He wants the books brought to him, the crowns, weapons, and jewelry.

Harry takes out a trunk and just starts piling the books in, shrinking them down to something that is minuscule and later he will decide if they are with his efforts to vanish or sell. He then tasks Krecher who he calls to his aid to shift through the weapons and put anything that is goblin made into the trunk. He includes wands into his stash as he has no idea if Tom will be able to get his original wand back. Scratch that he had no idea if he would trust the other with a wand, but if he does until they can find a suitable replacement, he might as well use the wands Harry has gathered as disposables. Probably would help him as well. Harder to identify who used what with a good wand turn over, the wand may resist and the magic may be weaker. But if it served its purpose there is no reason not to. 

He easily keeps Krecher away from the diadem. Sending him home with the other objects.

Riddle’s locket grows warm against his chest. Harry can feel the magic reaching for the piece that is missing. The black withered soul causes the locket to practically float and pulls against the back of his neck trying to get closer. The blue gem in the center of the jewelry holds the black like ink that is bleeding out of it, forming a very thick cloud of dark. 

The trap of the thing has been sprong. 

Harry puts up a shield as it crashes into it. The large black like a snake of magic can do nothing against the light that is pouring out of Harry’s core. That does not stop it from trying. It launches at him and crashes hard against the barrier only to dissipate and try all over again. 

It is raw magic, it is angry and this thing was hardly a soul shard. It showed just how frayed the part of it was, how detached it was. How lonely it was. 

The spiral of madness had created a very powerful, dark, angry mess.

“What did you do to yourself?” Harry can only mutter as the large black shadow flames reach out from a snake-like mouth, like protruding fangs. 

He holds his ground and the locket burns against the back of his neck. There are horrible words being called out. Whispers that remind him of when he was in the chamber with the Diary. All speak of coming death, destruction, and above all else the pain that is promised for messing with it. 

Harry has to hold his wand with both of his hands as he tries to pull at its weaker attachment to the object that it has called home for so long. It hisses out loudly noncoherent words and steam is coming from the diadem as the shard resists and almost curls its tail trying to hold on. The precious metal that makes up the diadem starts to glow with heat. 

And then just like that it is severed, the black shard twists and thrashes but Harry shoves it just like the other shard into the locket with tremendous effort. When the thing clicks shut the burning has stopped. The Locket lays still and Harry sits on the floor. Taking in very deep breaths.

 **Well done little Master.** Death shows himself in his normal form. **I was very entertained.**

“Thank you for all your help.” Harry hissed sarcastically. He doesn’t ever think he has been this drained by using magic before. It is probably because his core is still developing and he is very small in stature. He would take an aging potion for these sorts of things but that wouldn’t help with anything but his size.

 **You didn’t need me.** Death chuckles bending down to sense the necklace. **You are close to half, but not there yet. The shards are at least getting along and are stable all things considering.**

“Thank the heavens for small miracles.” Harry stood slowly, he wished that he could apparate out of this place, but that isn’t really a possibility. He is going to have to slink out the way that he came in or one of the other few passages. He was going to take the longest bath he could after this. Yes and it would be freaking warmer than the burning circles were rumored to be. 

~/*\~

There has been a shift in the castle’s magic, one of Albus’s many trinkets was going crazy as there has been something particularly dark practiced in the halls. The last time that he has seen the instrument go so loopy was when Tom Riddle killed Myrtle Warren. It had taken him a bit to find the body, and the place had wreaked of Dark Magic. He follows the indicators up onto the 6tth floor, and towards a wall that a room that exists and doesn’t is located. 

It opens for him as he draws on his title as Headmaster to open the damn thing. There are trinkets everywhere in a maze of hundreds of lost items or ones that people wanted hidden. His heart grows heavy in his chest. What could someone seek out in this place? 

Had RIddle come to collect something? 

There is a voice, it is very soft and childlike. 

“I know the next time I am going for one of these stupid things that it will be more dangerous. That is where you come in.” There is a pause. “No I am not a moron and don’t you dare say that is debatable.” 

The voice gets softer as it moves away from him. Albus creeps forward but there is nothing there, not a trace of the small boy’s voice. 

Was it one of his students?

He waits for a few more moments trying to hear if there will be more said. But just like there is no child there anymore there are no sounds. The room is just cold, very cold, and there is such taint to the room it makes him almost sick as his core reacts accordingly to it. There is also the feeling of Death. There is no doubt that it is the same as that time in 1942. Riddle had indeed been here, with the child or was possessing a child. 

Nothing could be more unsettling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for the support and love for the fic. 
> 
> 100 Kudos, in such time as a couple of days. 
> 
> I feel so honored thank you.


	4. There is No Time To Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a daring bank robbery to get the most needed ingredients for a resurrection. He accidentally befriends Quirrell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ＼(￣▽￣;)／ This took a bit to edit. Welcome back.

There is a saying for if there is a will there's a way and Harry must have had a lot of will. His mission was proof of that and well sorting through all of the books he had effectively taken from the room of requirements demanded a high degree of willingness to finish the task. The issues with all the books were finding buyers but eventually he did find a few stores that would take them. Harry had to admit that even when he dropped off hundreds of copies of school textbooks that he still had a rather impressive collection. Books from the ages really. He could tell if he wanted the slight changes between prints. Even though none of it was all that useful, least textbook wise, Harry kept them and dedicated a few bookcases to them. 

Yes, he had to expand the library. The smaller of the Black homes didn’t have much of a study, at least in Harry’s opinion. He transformed one of the bedrooms into a massive Library and knocked out the wall so that the office would be located in the corner of it. It had been a large undertaking. He had sorted a very impressive collection of books out of the trunk. When the expansion was completed. It all added up to the small library collection quadrupling in size. There were so many books on so many subjects that he made them sort themselves alphabetically, by subject matter or there would never have been any sense of organization. There were a bunch of them that were not able to be read, at least by him. They were in different languages and he was not exactly how to order them so he just gave them their own shelves and sections for the time being. Well at least if he had to keep Tom under house arrest he could have something to do. 

There was also the other sorting that he did. He made up a room for Tom emptying out the Regulus’s room. Yes it was not exactly nice, but Harry could not see giving him Sirius’s room as that one was the one that he was staying in. 

The space was made to just be cleaner with shelving. One that he placed the ring, diadem, and would place the other objects that he knew directly were his belongings. He did after all defile the diadem, and the ring was really his, probably one of the few things that Tom had owned that was related to his family. The locket would be handed over to Tom to wear as it would have most of his soul inside of it and would be the thing that kept him sane. Eventually it could go on the shelf in the nice glass and padded box that Harry had already provided for the ring and diadem. 

For the objects, Harry had some the things that didn't look good to him, were not magical, and he could have no reason in keeping sold or melted. He kept some pieces that were more of the magical variety and created a display case for them in the Library that was quickly becoming not only covered in books but also artifacts. The weapons that were goblin made were beautiful and had to have been hidden well centuries ago. The extra wands he hid in the basement that was converted thanks to Krecher to a potions lab. All the junk was moved to the attic, shrunken and labeled. 

This whole thing took him a couple of months, but the place had started to feel like it could be a home. Harry had designed it to look like a house he would have wanted. He knew where everything was and felt confident in its defenses having tightened down hard on the wards. He added to the vows that Krecher held so that he would only serve and be loyal to Harry. There was no way that he was letting another Black family member nameably that horrid portrait telling his house-elf what to do. 

Studies resumed for Harry and he had put together what was in theory a resurrection ritual. It took him well over a year and it was very, very frustrating. Tom had better appreciate the work that he had put into this mess. Such a ritual hinged on the philosopher's stone. He was weary to use it, but Death thought that it would make the best substitute unless Harry wanted to take care of a Homunculi fetus looking Voldemort for months as the potion brewed and keep him alive. Harry was not keen to take care of some frail horrifying creature that would serve as a vessel till a body could be created so it was the philosopher's stone or nothing, the back up the idea with the rudimentary body was not something that he wanted to do. 

Which thus left everything to his ability to get to the stone. He knew which bank vault that it was in and he rewatched his own memories over and over to remember how to get to the Lestrange vault in the pensive that he had bought with the book sales. 

Harry tapped his cheek with his fingers as he rested his head in that hand. He needed a semi-decent plan. 

Harrison Morte could use an account at Gringotts or that could at least be the cover for getting a Goblin alone to impetus curse it into lending him safely by the carts. Or...He could just follow one he supposes under the cloak as well and then imperious them... that would probably be easier. 

Godric he really was considering more crimes than just stealing. He was going to use one of the unforgivables. He rubbed at his scar, this had to be Tom’s negative influence. Then again he had tried to crutio someone before and Tom had tried to give him better tips on how to do it. 

Harry let out a very deep sigh feeling a lot older than nearly 8. 

~/*\~

Diagon Alley is a place that Severus doesn’t go very often, but sometimes he has to special order ingredients that he does not grow himself, and he won’t ever pay for them before he sees them. Needless to say there was a long discussion about what the word quality meant.

He sat eating outside only partially enjoying the fresh air. It is not an overly busy summer day and Severus is so glad to be out of the bloody school. He is safe from his student’s stupidity at least for another month. He takes a slow sip of his tea when suddenly he feels a slight burning sensation on his arm. It is his mark he knows it, he carefully pulls back his sleeve making sure that no one is watching him. 

The Dark Mark is twisting, raised ever so slightly. He covered it, his eyes darting around him. He doesn’t see anything though and as soon as the burning has started it has stopped. He throws down the couple sickles that he owes and starts trying to pick up a sign of the burn again. 

He catches sight of a younger man making his way towards Knockturn Alley. He wears nothing that would be recognizable, but that build. It reminds him of the man that he once knew. There is the dull thrum of pain from the mark and the man turns towards him, though he has his hood up there is a familiar curve to his face. He is listening; it's obvious the way his head moves and by this body language. Snape braces himself, ducking behind a near storefront. He watches as the man turns back and there is a loud pop and he is gone. 

It is unsettling and he takes a few deep breaths, knowing that Albus was going to get very paranoid when he tells him this. But it is not like some of it was not warranted. There is no real concrete evidence that the Dark Lord may be active. 

The way that his mark reacted it could not have been imagined… 

And there still was no trace of Potter's son. 

The figure though, he really looked like…

He really looked like James at least from the hair that he could see and the build, having seen that form many times retreating it is a really convincing fake. He makes his way into the store that the others seemed like they would have been going into and he strikes up a conversation easily, his work as a spy makes it possible to wrangle out the first name. 

Harrison.

There was something certainly going on, the name was too similar to Harry not to be. Call him perhaps overreacting, but Snape had lived with the Dark Lord for a few months serving as his personal resident potions master, and he always had a flair for the dramatics. 

~/*\~

 **Is hiding in open places or scouting as you call it going well?** Death sits at the table of the dining room. Kreacher is staring at him and probably wondering how the man that is standing there has gotten past the wards. 

“I suppose that it is going on well enough, not helping that people seem to want to talk to me about books at every other store. Harrison is popular apparently.”

**Mysterious dark-haired men that linger in alleys and have decent taste in books are apparently hard to find.**

“Or at least ones that seem well-read, and carry such an odd last name.” Harry considers. “Do you change face any time that you enter the realm of the living disguised?” 

**I have a few defaults.** The well dressed and blond man tilts his head, at least he is not as pale nor dressed like Malfoy. He looks like he is a Muggle that is waiting to head out to work or some sort of meeting somewhere. 

**By the look on your face I am starting to think that you have something against blonds. I am rather happy with this form, but that is probably because I had to wear it for a long time during the Second World War.**

He frowned deeply. 

**I needed breaks between the things that were happening. Don’t give me that look Harry. It is rather insulting. I care little for mortal politics. The more fascinating to me part is the way that they can overcome adversity and how pressures shape them. To me I like seeing how the stories will end. There are far too many tragedies. Rarely do I get the thrill of a happy one.**

“Are you watching my life like it is some sort of drama unfolding?” Harry raised an eyebrow. 

**It is one of the most complex and ever-changing mess of one that I have ever seen.**

“That makes me feel so much better about the trajectory of it.” Harry shakes his head. 

**Don’t worry there will be plenty more twists and it is sure to work out well enough in the end. Now as for lurking and such have you decided when your break-in will take place?** Death sounds like he has decided how it will end or knows more than he is letting on. Harry isn’t sure he wants to know honestly. 

“You must really want me to get that stone.” Harry sighed. “I think that a break-in will be happening somewhere in the next month. I then will need to make sure my theories and research will be complementary to what you have told me about the properties of it. I don’t want to botch this.” 

**It will not be botched however practicing building a body may be the most challenging part. Necromancy is such a messy practice even for me and the creation of organic matter is not something that can just be done on the first try. I am incapable of it really. I like to see how you go about it.**

Harry rubs at his temples. “One step at a time Death, just because I gather all the pieces, doesn’t mean that I'm going to jump into resurrecting Tom. I need to make sure that I try to help him gain more than his sanity. It wouldn’t sit well with me if I was just bringing him back so that he could continue to murder and be a monster.”

 **I see your wish to save everyone.** Death is smiling now. **Has the idea of the kicked dog helped you reach this.**

“I reasoned that I get to be selfish for the rest of however long I wish to be the Master of Death if I do this task, but first need to make sure that Tom doesn’t become a problem after he gets the part of his soul out of my head. Besides he has to learn to regret to do that. He can’t learn it the way that he currently is or was.”

 **You humans fascinated me, the way that you try to become more than what you are, the way in which you are capable of the greatest evils and the greatest kindnesses.**

“We wouldn’t be human if we weren’t a bit of gray.” Harry smiles weakly. 

**No and you would be incredibly dull if all there was, was black or white. I look forward to the ways in which the path shall bend.**

~/*\~

Diagon Alley had gone from a magical place that the boy visited once every year to a place that he visited near monthly. There were always books to be obtained, potion ingredients that needed to be ordered, and items in which he would trade. He had no shortage of gold, however, he never spent any of it. Perhaps it was the minimal coins that he had owned before 11 or the way he had never owned much up until this point that caused him to not wish to waste any of it on anything useless. But no matter the reasons, Diagon Alley has been demystified by him. He no longer thinks of buying unnecessary things. He is no longer as in love with magic as he was when he was younger. Harry has seen way too much of what it can do. He supposes that Muggles could do more dangerous things, with weapons of their own, but he has not experienced that as much as he has Magic. He prefers to do most things that he can without it. 

Harry makes his way silently into the bank, all his enchantments built into the objects that he wears. He does this so that when he passes through the waterway and spells fail. He will stay hidden. He doesn’t need more than just to steal a Goblin and get to the vaults. 

He is going to get the Goblet first and then he is going for the stone. He waits against the pillars of the bank, silently watching as the Goblins change spots and rounds. They need breaks, short ones but they need them nonetheless and Harry has studied the schedule and where they go. He slips from his spot as the next change happens and cuts off an older Goblin that has fallen behind the others on his way towards the break room, well at least one of them. 

Harry steps in front of him and he bounces back, startled unsure what he has hit. Before the creature can try to cast anything Harry has already used the unforgivable. He directs the Goblin towards the cart and has him operate it. As they pass through the water, Harry can feel it roll off of him and nothing has changed, but the poor Goblin looks confused and lost. His wide gray eyes scan every which way and Harry hits him again with the curse.

They go deep into the underground. Harry keeps his wand steady sending nothing but happy, pleasant thoughts to the person that he is controlling. He makes sure that when the cart stops at the vault door, that he makes the poor thing sleep softly. 

He can’t help but feel bad for him. He even makes sure when the others start to fall asleep that his glasses aren’t crushed and he will not be disturbed. Death has made his appearance known by standing in the dull lighting of the tunnel to the door. 

**Do try not to burn. I can not bring you back if all that is left of you is ash.**

“If everything works out that dragon won’t even know that I am here.” Harry confidently takes a step forward. The dragon is not asleep as he had hoped it is struggling against the large chains that are on its neck. The great white beast can not hear him, nor see him. Harry knows this. But its large eyes are watching the path with the power of flame rising up in its chest, by the way that it puffs itself up. 

He takes a deep breath and inches his way forward. It might not be able to see or hear him but it can smell him and he knows that it can perhaps feel the way that Death himself is in the place. 

The dragon flicks its long spikey tail and Harry steps over it, slowly running his hand against the door, just as the Goblin had done in the memoires that he had rewatched. The door opens and he is careful to take the coak off, as he needs to be able to move and he is smaller in this body and he doesn’t want to trip on the damn thing. 

No magic from him will work in the place, the traps and other enchantments are fair game though. He has to make it to the cup and then trigger the trap but not until. He can’t drown in gold. That would be an awful way to die even if he can be revived from it. 

The locket heats and there is a loud hissing that he can hear from the back of the vault. The dark vault suddenly feels very alive as the shadows wrap themselves around him, it is like there is a poison in the air. It's suffocating and potent magic. It's dark and foul and it almost makes him vomit as it tries to make its way into him. Pushing hard against him and his face. And just like that Harry throws caution to the wind and runs as fast as he can jumping off of the bottom self and flinging himself up to the cup. 

The shadowy fog follows him and stings his eyes, but he grasps the cup, sending the plates below him. The room is quick to start to fill with things as he topples over the many objects scattering. The room is filling quickly and he has to rush as the door starts to try to close itself. The Dark is swallowing him, leaking from the wall and the breath that he is holding leaves him. But he has yet to take another one in. 

He lunges and rolls his way out only to remember that there is a dragon on the other side of this door. The beast is standing up now to full height. Its claws digging into the rock below it and it lets out a feral screech. 

“I don’t suppose that we can talk about this?” Harry asks and gets another loud rawr into his face. Spit drips down onto him, and the glob is just as horrible as the black fog that had been in the vault. “Right.” 

He rolls quickly to the side as the tail stabs deep into the floor to where he was. It chases him and he manages to just keep rolling until he has enough of a second to shoot himself backward and out of reach of the chain links. The pillar is shaking from the dragon pulling to get to him. It's thrashing and snarling as he stands up and dusts himself off. 

“Ha.” Harry lets out a nervous laugh. 

**Well done Master however, you may have forgotten one small thing.**

Harry widens his eyes as the chest of the large lizard against puffs and he is just fast enough to hide himself from the flame that tries to singe his hair. He can feel the heat, and speaking of heat, the Locket feels like it is burning a hole into his chest. He takes it off the second that he is by the cart again. And he pulls the soul shard out of the cup. It is just as tainted and awful as the others, but it feels weaker against him. It doesn’t fight as hard as the others while it’s extracted. And he forces it into the locket. The thing reacts, he can see the way that it's fighting in there, all of it is. 

The thing will not shut all the way. He fights the hinges closed and feels like it is just holding. Death takes it from him, and there is the sound of scraping. A very small symbol has been carved onto the back from the sharpness of bone-like talons. 

**It shall hold. I shall not let the hard work that you have done go to waste.**

The thing feels even more alive. Harry can hear it talking softly, nothing that is distinguishable, but it is talking. It's a dull thrum of voices. He holds it listening hard and it sounds like the same voice at different ages, or stages. He runs a hand over it and they stop. He doesn’t know what to do with this information or why the shards are content when he releases his grip to hang just over his heart. 

He is tired but he knows that there are still things that need to be done. He needs the philosopher’s stone. He has his Goblin friend take them where they need to go. 

~/*\~

713 it’s a small vault but Harry doesn’t fool himself into thinking that there isn’t something that is deadly in that place. He can feel it. The locket can too. It's whispering again as if trying to move away from something that is for certain a painful end. He feels his hairs on his arms start to stand up because he knows nothing about the enchantments. He has the Goblin open the door, and a dark part of him tells him to send the poor man into there just to see what would happen, assess the danger. 

But Harry squishes that thought quickly. Putting the Goblin again under. And placing his cloak on. There is the bundle on the pedestal in the center of the small room. He moves with care, he takes off his glasses and feels the magic. Trusting what is there without his eyes. Magic is thrumming and the slightest miss-step is going to cause the room to close in on him and whatever is in there making it that cold will descend. He wonders if there is a dementor in the place, as he is filled with dread much like when one is close by. 

He feels along with the magic though, trusting the light traces to it, the ones that let him know that he is going to be safe. They are not meant for him. But he knows how to play them, sort of. He makes it to the stone and feels the defenses to it. He knows that there are thousands of souls that have never received rest because of the thing. 

He looks at the package and slowly takes out his wand, tracing the tip against the harsh know for enchantments, and starts trimming them away. It is like a bomb in his hands, and he can only focus on the traces in front of him. Peeling them back lair by lair. 

“Why is Renook here?” A Goblin’s voice is just a few steps away. Harry pulls back quickly and just grabs the stone. He feels blood leaving his hand the moment that he holds it, but he bolts anyway. His hand burning and he quickly undoes the cursed wrappings. Dumping a potion on them as the other Goblins try to wake their friend. It burns but the bleeding stops. 

He gets into their cart and looks at the black that is crawling up slowly his arm. That is really not good. He feels his heart slamming into his chest the whole ride back to the surface. He can see the purple-black creeping up into his veins. The second that he can he makes it out into the streets and apparates. It takes nearly everything out of him as he spills out on the floor. 

He can hardly breathe. He chokes for air, his eyes feel like they are going to pop out of his head. There is so much pressure on his chest and face. 

**Succumb to me.** Death’s voice is distorted, strong, and powerful. It is not like any of the times that they have ever spoken. It is just too forceful, and commanding. 

Harry can hardly shake his head. He grips the carpet and throws up blood. Kreacher is trying to make his way over. He looks unsure of what to do. He can not see Death that is hunched over him. 

**Come to my side. I will save you, Master.**

The hand reaches for him and he feels it all stop. He is back in that familiar plane. There are voices all around him and they are yanked back to the small home. 

**It will be alright.** Death pulls him inside. **You have your bracelet and thus can leave after I mend your body. Drink some tea and browse my home while I take care of everything.**

It feels weird to be in the house of Death when he himself was out. It was simple no matter what room he went into. There was a small kitchen, the living room, a library, and a couple of bedrooms. It's all homey and yet wrong like Death is trying to replicate what normal human’s homes would be like. 

He did say that he finds Humans to be fascinating didn’t he? 

He was about to make a cup of tea before there was pressure. 

~/*\~

Harry sits up with a horrified gasp. He is still on the living room floor there is vomit and blood caked to the side of his face. The black that has gripped him is gone. 

“Young master was dead.” Kreacher looks horrified. 

“Only briefly.” Harry stands onto shaking legs. “Don’t worry about it. Death can’t keep me long and even if he could there is just no time to die and stay that way.” 

He took the longest bath of his life after he made sure that the Stone was safely in the lab. The things that he did for Riddle. 

~/*\~

There are not enough places to be alone when the school year starts. The head office is the best place to sit there or pace. And Albus has been doing a lot of pacing trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to. He knows that the stone of his dear friend has been stolen. He expects a resurrection to happen shortly. But it has been months, and even more since Severus felt the Dark Mark on his arm burn. It makes him worried as Tom is laying low, and that can only mean that something big had to be on the way. 

~/*\~

There was something to be said about the art of Death, actually, there were a lot of things to say about it and Harry had become quite sickened with the implications of bringing someone back from it. The ways were messy as there was no way to bring someone completely back, not even with a soul. So resurrecting someone that had split their soul was a messy business. 

Harry could feel his magical core becoming poisoned by the things that he needed to learn. He could make flesh and organic matter from other organic matter. Life created this way was worse than anything that he could imagine. But he needed to be able to recreate a person, so he went from creating organic matter around dead animal skeletons first. It took him a long time to be able to create mice to look the way that they would have looked in life. Yes they were still dead, but they had their insides in the correct places and the ligaments correctly aligned. From mice he went to larger animals. It took him years and now he was nearing 11 and he knew that he had to go find Voldemort before he found himself on the back of someone’s head. 

He never killed anything that he retexturized, all the skeletons he bought from potions places, and science catalogs. He had to be able to do this though now to a human corpse and that bothered him greatly. He had learned that the fresher the bones were the easier it was. If it was a few years old and not decomposed that was fine, but anything over 5 and it was pushing it. He was going to have to add grave robbing to his list of sins and the body would need to be that of a male and about the age of an adult. It shouldn’t be all that hard to locate. 

Things were shaping up, literally and figuratively. All that he had to do was track down Riddle and he could start attempting to put him into a body. An animal could hold him until he could prepare a proper body and resurrect him in that. The idea of working with human bodies was still bothering him though… 

~/*\~

Romania of all the places, this was the place that Tom Riddle had drifted to. The Boldu-Crețeasca Forest to be more precise. Harry couldn’t think of a more dramatic place to hide. The forest was supposed to have all sorts of supernatural things happening inside of it. The locals were not exactly horrified by it. But they do not think that it is exactly a nice place. They are concerned that he wishes to explore it. There are parts of this land that the trees grew crooked and they bowed like they were large Js in shape. There was also a clearing that nothing had grown in the past 60 years. 

There are things that live here, he encounters a few Boggarts and a few Dementors which were feeding off of Muggles that had no idea that they were there. It would explain the anxiety of the place. 

Now the Dementor that he had met, seemed to love him or as close as they were capable of it. They adored death and Harry, unfortunately, was the master of it. There was nothing particularly magical about the forest except for the Witches pond and Harry can confirm that the place holds power. It would make sense to hide in these trees. The water is pure, beautiful and he traces it with his hand, feeling the properties. It is the place that he feels the magic is the strongest and Voldemort will make an appearance. 

He runs into Quirrell at the local tavern. The man is not the mess that he was before. Harry introduces himself as Harrison. 

“Is there a particular reason that you are traveling here.” Harry smiles, buying him a drink.

“I was very interested in the rumors of the place, and any unique properties that might prove useful in my research.” Quirrell smiles slightly back.

“Yes the forests are rumored to be very supernatural, some may argue that they are full of Dark Magic.” Harry tilts his head, letting the other in on the fact that they are both magical. “Though I would argue and just say that a lot of things that hide in there are just using the hype to feed.” 

“Have you seen anything of interest?” Quirrell now is fully intrigued, perhaps Harry has had the man pinned down wrong. He looks just fascinated by the idea of the dark. He has not seen the true evils of it by the state of his Magical core. 

He thought that he was a Death Eater or wanted to be one. But perhaps he really just was someone looking for a way to prove that they could be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher or one of the few Ministry officials that specialize in that sort of thing. If anything the recent Ravenclaw graduate in front of him doesn’t seem the type to commit murders.

“A few Boggarts and Dementors.” Harry shrugs. “If you are planning on investigating, best have your Patronus ready and a supply of chocolate.” 

“I was hoping that there might be something more spectacular. Maybe a coven of Vampires.” Quirinus lets out a deep sigh.

“Looking for cladly dressed ladies of the Dark?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “I can assure you that the only ones that one would find out there are the Muggles pretending to be them. They might try to seduce you though.” 

Quirinus turns a little red chuckling slightly. “Well it would be the first time that anything interesting like that would happen to me.” 

“I’m surprised, you seem to have traveled a lot. Certainly you have many interesting tales.” Harry makes the conversation shift as he is hoping to turn the other away from the forests and making him interested in checking other places that would seem more adventures than a tourist trap. 

The man runs a hand through his short black hair. “I suppose that I have a few, I fought a Zombie once. It was rather interesting the way that it moved.”

“I have never seen Inferi.” Harry glances towards the bartender and she nods bringing him another drink.

He is lying of course, learning how best to do it and Death hated anyone that tried to steal souls from his realm. One could steal from Purgatory. 

“Well where I was it’s not as...how do I put this scandalous to practice the darker arts. And well they are a good way to try and assassinate someone.” Quirrell shrugs. “I lit it on fire in front of the prince. He was not magic, and he was rather impressed. The smell was awful though.” 

“I am sure, burning flesh is never a good smell.” Harry agrees easily. “Probably the worst smell actually.” 

“And how would you know that?” Quirrell raises a brow he is for sure interested in Harry now.

“I have fought things in my travels that would turn anyone else white or rather dead.” Harry laughs. “And there is nothing interesting enough here to stick around. Now Japan has some really interesting cryptids and monsters that need dispatching. I am heading that way again soon.” 

Harry then talks of fighting some of the things he actually has and things that he completely has made up. They talk into the wee hours of the morning. and Harry would reluctantly say that the other is almost like a friend, and Harry has not had one of those in a while. The drunker that his drinking partner gets the more open. And Harry starts to like him just slightly more even if he is a bit clingy and touchy, more so than most other people that he knows. 

By the closing time he has convinced the eager Ravenclaw that perhaps the woods searching for dark entities is not the ideal career path for him. At least not without the training. Quirrell is probably going to try and hook up with a monster hunting and curse-breaking group. Any interest that he has in trying to communicate with something Voldemort like or similar has left him. He wants to keep in contact with Harry though, and Harry supposes that the least he can do for the other is provide him with some sort of guidance against the dark, seeing that he has been actively studying way too much of it. The weird adoration that the drunk man seems to have for him though is a little disturbing on how fast it has developed. 

Harry might be inclined to think that Quirrell is just as lonely as he is in a completely different way. 

They make plans to have lunch before they are both supposedly headed to different corners of the world and lunch turns into a lot of staring on Quirrell's end, and horribly red-faced when Harry points it out to him. 

“It's just your curse scar, I have never seen anything like it or really met anyone like you before in general.” 

Harry has a weird sensation in his gut. “Not many have.”

“I feel very drawn to you, your magic is such a gray that it blends strangely.” Quirrell’s hands frantically shake themselves and he is reminded of his teacher his first year. “It's just I don’t really want to leave you, yet. I think we could be good friends and help each other. I could learn a lot from you.”

“You need training if you are going to keep up with me, and to see if you are ready for any sort of commitment like that.” Harry suddenly feels really old and he has never had to break up, but not break up with someone like this before. 

“Right.” The other hesitantly agrees and takes Harry’s address so that he can write to him. 

Voldemort would have easily been able to manipulate a person like Quirrell. Harry suddenly feels very bad for having dusted him as he boards the train. He probably was just as ambitious as he was here, desperate for some sort of respect, and to research things that not many understood. He was an eager little 22 years old and has so much to live for and just like many others Tom had poisoned him. Harry will do his best in letters to keep track of what he is actually getting up to, now that he feels just slightly responsible for the other. 

~/*\~

Without the other, Harry spends his time searching honestly for Volde. It takes a few months to pick up his trail and well it is more the locket picks up the piece that is missing. There is a snake that is moving by the reeds. It is off and moving incorrectly. Harry watches as a creature parts from it, more shadow and distorted than anything that he has seen coming from the Horcruxes. 

Harry steps closer to him and he moves a little closer. 

“Nice to see you again,” Harry says to it and of course that causes the rest of Tom to tilt his head. He lets out a small hiss.

“Oh don’t start that with me.” Harry takes out his wand and puts down the enchantments. Snaring the last chunk of a soul that is inside of him. 

_~What are you doing?~_

__~Saving your life or what is left of it.~_ Harry takes the locket out and the red of the eyes of the jagged form widen. _

__

Riddle tries to escape but the enchantments are raining him in.

__

_~This will be a lot worse if you struggle, trust me.~_

__

Of course, Riddle doesn’t listen to him and Harry has to fight him tooth and nail, to stick him into the locket with the rest of the shards. For all that is left of the original soul which is such a small insignificant amount it is the worst that he has ever had to tackle. And when the locket snaps shut, it is still and there is one voice that he can hear loud and clear the second that he puts it on. It is like the diary so clear cut, in his mind even if there are no words on paper this time to enforce it. 

__

__~What have you done to me?~_ _

__

__~I saved you, you can’t stay in that form or you will go far madder than you were before.~_ _

__

Harry touches the locket and traces the gems that make it up. This seems to comfort the shards and consequently Tom that is inside of it. 

__

__

__

__~I don’t believe you, let me out.~_ _

__

_~ I can't do that Tom, at least not yet. I need to put you back into a body and trust me that might be a while. But I figured that being with me was better than wandering the forests alone.~_

__

There is silence for a long time. _~You are not one of my followers. Who are you?~_

__

Harry smiles a little even if He knows that Tom can not see it. _~My name is Harrison Morte~_

__

_~/*\~_

__

Across the world Dumbledore feels a shiver travel up his spine. He has no idea why, but he suddenly has a very awful feeling that can be described as nothing but pure dread. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your support the next chapter we shall have Tom back...
> 
> er... Voldemort lol. ( ^▽^)


	5. The Heart of a Dying Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry get to know each other and Harry builds Tom a body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back! 
> 
> Large Chapter Dump ahead.

There is a darkness that fills almost like a void. It drifts in smoke, and he can make out trees and roots that spread deep into the soil. There is hardly a sound to the void and there is no way to feel anything. Sound echoes and drifts around him with a lulling tone that is both eerie and at least confirmation that he is still somewhere in the world. It is just the need to move, a need to press on. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been here. Where ever here was. He felt tugged in hundreds of directions at once. They hurt the part of his chest that he could still feel. It was the only thing that he could feel. 

The pain was constant, it at first was all-encompassing and that was the only thing that he could think of. How much it hurt, how much he wanted it to stop. But when all one feels is pain they want it to stop, and will do anything to achieve this. He jumps animal body to body, it stops the pain for a day or two before the thing will die and he is forced back to the plane that is part of the living world but is not quite right, back to the fogs and the agony of it. 

But however bad the pain was, one can get almost used to it as pathetic as it is. He longs for times when it is a dull throb rather than a stabbing, fire. 

He thinks it must be hell. It has to be for all the things that he has done or it is because he can not really die. He has cursed himself to this. He never would have created ankers if this was going to be his existence, a state that is trapped between life and death. Not even a ghost, hardly able to tell what was in the world around him. He had sought out Romania, as it had been a place that had magical properties and it was a good place to stop on his way to Albania. He had felt safest there when he had been studying magic but somehow he had gotten lost in the endless wandering and now he has no idea where he is. 

He has spent forever wandering... 

Wandering aimlessly, feeling as if he has been shredded and pulled apart... 

He can not think straight unless he is in something living. 

'Concentrate' he wills himself as the image of something moving catches his eye. A snake, yes. Perfect. 

He would take anything that he could get but the second that he possesses it there is clarity. He feels the breath in its lungs, he can feel the heartbeats. And he moves it towards a source of water so that he can keep it alive a few precious hours or minutes longer.

It is by the pond that he feels someone with Magic is close by. It is almost like there is a god. He pulls out of the snake as it is near dead and tries to get closer to the Magical core. It is his only hope if he can be in a magical body he knows that it will last, it will last long enough perhaps to get himself one of his own. He can sustain it if needed until he can come up with a solution. 

It hurts, existence is agony in this form he is able to hiss out his displeasure and a voice travels through the shadows. It is clear and powerful.

“It is nice to see you again.” He tried to focus in on the sound, the core. He feels like each movement that he makes that he is breaking apart. He feels like he is dying again. He hisses and curses as he stumbles and feels as if he can not move.

What is happening? 

There was magic in the air and it hurts. It hurts like someone is clutching at his chest. He hates it. He needs to know what’s happening. But he can not focus his eyes, he can not do anything but stand there.

_~What are you doing?~_

“Saving your life, or what is left of it.” The magical core pulses and he can hear it clearly. Still, there is that tugging at him pulling on him and he resists it. 

“This will be worse if you struggle trust me.” 

He can't trust anyone. Tom knows this. No one has come for him. No one has looked for him. He has been in this state for such a long time and not even his most loyal have come for him. The pulling is worse and he is shoved somewhere that is very dark. Very tight and he can hardly move. But the pain is gone, it's almost like things have become serial. 

He can no longer see, but that is a small price to pay for relief from the pain, still, it’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t recognize the voice and everything feels too calm, too unnatural. 

_~What have you done to me?~_

He needs to know…

He needs to know it if the others can hear him. 

_“I saved you, you can't stay in that form or you will go madder than you were before.”_

What did that mean? 

Who was this person?

The thoughts were a thousand a second, which is slightly horrifying in and of itself as before he could hardly get a thought to travel through the pain. He almost feels magic trying to lull him into a sense of security. 

_~I don’t believe you, let me out.~_

He is one thing that he has not been in a very long time, scared. And Voldemort has not felt helpless in a very long time. He can not get out of whatever prison that he has been placed into. He has no promises and no assurances that nothing will happen to him. He could make threats but he doubts that will be of any use because he can not act on them.

_~ I can't do that Tom, at least not yet. I need to put you back into a body and trust me that might be a while. But I figured that being with me was better than wandering the forests alone.~_

Tom… that is his first name. He has not heard it in a very long time. There is only one person that dares to call him that. Dumbledore… 

But this voice is not his and should it have been someone from the light certainly they would have bragged about capturing him, not telling him that they are trying to help him. Especially if they are trying to get him a body back. Not that he really would believe anything that the other said to him, but even lies usually had crumbs of truth and that was the best way that he could try to get a grip on his situation. 

_~You are not one of my followers. Who are you?~_

He does not expect an answer because there is silence for a little while as if the other knows that giving him any sort of information wasn’t a good idea. 

_~My name is Harrison Morte~_

That name strikes him. When Voldemort was creating his name he had done a lot of research. And He knows that Morte was another word for the dead. He wants to know more, but there is that lull of magic again and he can’t fight it this time. It puts him under. 

~/*\~

Voldemort learns that he is trapped in some sort of container with other magical signatures that are his own at least of what he can tell. They all speak and whisper, but he can get them to be silent if he thinks hard enough about it. He doesn’t know where he is, what contraption that he is in, but he can hear a heartbeat and he knows that it must belong to the person that has trapped him. 

_~Where am I?~_

He waits for an answer and he doesn’t have to wait long. 

_~My home.~_

The sound resonates throughout the place that he is. 

_~No what am I trapped in~_ He clarifies. 

_~A locket.~_

The voice responds after a pause, ~It is the best that I could do container wise. None of the other ones that you created besides perhaps the Diary would have been able to hold all the shards.~

It disturbs him greatly… 

The shards… 

And the second he thinks that there are 4 little lights in the darkness, they pulse and are cracked and splintered like a glass that has been dropped onto the floor. He reaches out to touch them and they burn like they are the stars that they look like on the horizon of this small prison. They are parts of his soul, he can recognize them. 

_~You broke yourself into fragments, each break snapped part of your sanity. Every time you create a Horcrux you are taking away memories, magic, and parts of your emotions and self. You have condemned yourself to a fate worse than death I hope you realize.~_

The voice is that of a child's. He can now distinguish the pitches to it. It sounds like Harrison is disappointed in him and Voldemort wants to tell him that he can’t regret his decisions because of them he is still alive. He also doesn’t care if he has disappointed someone else. He wants to tell him that he doesn’t need the shards that are around him. He doesn’t need these parts of himself. 

But that would make him weak and he can not say that. 

_~I plan to help you patch yourself back together so that you can avoid the fate that I know that you were working yourself towards. To do that you have to mend the soul that you broke.~_

He knows how to mend his soul, but he can’t. If he does that he will not be immortal. But if he had sacrificed some of his magic as was claimed then he was or had been making himself weaker. Perhaps succumbing to some sort of madness even before he had been unable to think. 

Still he knows what he has given up. He knows what emotions that he cut out of himself, he knows what memories that he was willing to sacrifice. 

_~You may not think that you need them Tom Riddle, but those things are what makes you human, allow for you to be alive, and trust me the life you were living was meaningless without them.~_

The heartbeat leaves him and he is alone. Even as he tries to demand that the boy talk with him. Explain himself better than that. Explain to him what he wants from him truly. 

But no one answers him and he is stuck there in the darkness. 

Alone with the shards. 

He can not help himself, he can not help but face the shards that he is trapped with. 

They call to him, like a wounded animal with sounds of sadness and fear. Things that he thought that he has left behind. 

The first thing that he had given up was his doubts, Tom Riddle did not need those clouding his mind. He had to believe that he could succeed at any cost, He had given that up with insecurities. He needed all the pride that he could have to rise. Rise about the filthy Muggle blood that had run in his veins. He had needed to make all believe that he was not one to be insulted and was worthy of all their praise and admiration. Those were not here but the others they were. 

The emotion that he had given up next was fear. He had never wanted to feel the way that he had when he was in the blitz or the way that he feared he would be dragged away to the second world war without a wand or a way to escape. He had done away with the fear of death as he was supposedly invincible now. 

Fear is the closest one to him, it is practically attached to him. It teams with life and the small fragment that is in him reacts to it. For he is scared. He is scared what the stranger has told him might be true. That he has given up parts of himself and damned himself to that fate of less than a ghost. Less than any Muggle, snake, or insect alike. 

The next had been sadness and the shard seemed to look at him. It sparks all the times that he has cried, that he has wept over the feelings of loss in his childhood. All the times that he had felt like he was nothing, that he was disappointed that no one had liked him when he missed a family that never would have wanted him. The sadness that came with being a demon that not even the Matrons could love at the orphanage or the other children. Deep repressed feelings that would come and nag at him at times for the things that he never had nor ever would have. 

And that is what had led to the final thing that he had carved out of himself. He had then gotten rid of loneliness and innocence as there was none of that left in him. 

They all beg him to take them back, fractures of himself that he doesn’t want to take back. 

He can hear the crying of a small boy, a boy that was unwanted. Voldemort doesn’t want him either back. He was weak. He was vulnerable. And Voldemort doesn’t want to be weak. He doesn’t… he can not afford it. 

~/*\~

He gets to talk to Harrison again, the boy sounds tired but even as he is this he will not share anything personal about himself. He will not be open and Voldemort can not manipulate what he doesn’t know. And any pretending to care what Harrison is talking about is noted and he is bounced back to just the nothingness. 

He doesn’t know if this is an attempt to drive him to madness or not. It all could be an attempt by his captor to get him to mend with parts of himself that are broken. Reflection perhaps…

He tries to think where he went wrong when things had become this horrid and perhaps it comes down to playing into a prophecy that could have passed him by if he had left it alone. He might not have had doubts but that had not meant that he didn’t care for precautions and he had created this paradox of having to deal with what could have been a threat to him. 

He wants out of this echo chamber for the only thing that he can regret is that he had not killed Harry Potter. He might even regret the fact that this has become of him but that was all. 

He can not put remorse to his actions, which he is sure that Harrison wants from him. No, he can not be remorseful. 

~/*\~

“I have nearly completed the research I need to create a living human body.” Harrison tells him. “It is a bit more complex than I thought it would be. It was much easier to make cats and dogs. Hell even the deer was easier.” 

He has stopped talking in the language of snakes. Voldemort doesn’t have choice, at the moment what he chooses to communicate with. 

~Perhaps I can help you.~ He tries. He will do anything to get out of this place, any faster can be nothing but a miracle. This is worse he has decided then the pain of being a spirit. 

“I doubt it, I have seen your hack job of necromancy and I can say that I am far from impressed. No, in fact I am quite sickened by it.” 

Harrison already is on guard which is far from being ideal. He doesn’t know how to be…

~I am sorry~ He tries. 

“I know that you are far from it Tom. I don’t even think that you know the meaning of that word.” 

He doesn’t have teeth but if he did he would be grinding them. 

“I am sorry. It is not I think completely your fault. Perhaps this is an impossible task.” Harrison covers over. “It also might be that I am very stressed.”

~You don’t have to work yourself so hard.~ 

Harrison laughs and he feels it, he feels the movement of his chest and the heart rate that speeds a bit. 

“I see how you enchanted those before me now. You can be very charming when you want to be. I am much more used to the side of you that hurls hexes and unforgivables at anything that moves.”

So Harrison did not want to be Death Eater, which he sort of had guessed by now, but it was not confirmed. He might have been on the other side of the war, and even if he sounded like a child perhaps that was just his voice pattern. The boy was to knowledgable to be too young. 

~Why do you call me Tom.~ Voldemort decided to switch topics as it would probably help to narrow down if he really knew this person or at least how the other seemed to know a vast number of things. If he really was working on necromancy. 

“It’s your name and I can hardly call you Volde- Morte. It is ridiculous and some may find it offensive.”

~It is not. I made it so that all would know what I brought, to strike fear into my enemies.~

Harrison laughs again. “There it is the speeches that I am used to. Your name translates to flight from death, theft from death, or vicious death if I take into account Vold. I have mixed your name up and I know that you came up with it from the very letters of your birth name. Does that not seem childish to you?”

~Many would find it a fitting name~ Voldemort wishes that he could curse the boy or man or whoever this person was. He was getting on his nerves and all that patience that he had is quickly diminishing. 

“Yes, many would.” The voice has become steely, almost like it is older than before. “You brought nothing but Death to all. The name was fitting, childish, but fitting as you went about your tantrums against the world that wronged you.” 

~projecting are you~ Voldemort hissed.

“No, I really find you childish. I can sympathize with your life, I really can. We are similar, though our paths have diverged.” 

This interests him. 

~Yet you are studying darker magic in an attempt to bring me back.~ He presses, turning the conversation again. 

“Necromancy is not completely evil, it has been used to save lives that were cut too short.” Harrison’s voice drifts away. “Though it does fundamentally change a person, both physically and mentally. It's more than raising the dead, more than commanding an army of skeletal warriors which is what you were using it for. It's playing Divine, and the Divines don’t like humans holding the same power and messing with it trust me. Out of personal experience, I know Death hates it the most, only followed then by life.” 

He spoke as if he knew Death… and life. This Harrison had to be insane. Death was not an entity it was just an inevitability. There was no real heaven, but the oblivion that waited after passing out of the living world. None could be as perfect as the religious foolish Muggles wanted a person to be. Everyone was on par with a devil. 

“Necromancers do not play with powers they do not understand, those who do, die. Either you understand the forces you manipulate, both in what they do to the world around you, the world they come from, and their effect or you don’t and should respect that a person is dead. But not you Riddle, you played God and ripped your soul into 7 pieces. I have tasked myself to piece that mess of a soul back together so that you have a prayer at the afterlife.” 

It is then that their conversation or if it really was one ends. Harrison must have thought that he revealed too much and Voldemort was left-back with the soul shards and his own mind to drive him half-mad. He didn’t recall making 7 Horcruxes… No, he had made his diary, the family ring, his locket, the Hufflepuff cup, and the diadem all into wonderful containers for his soul. He had never been able to complete the last of them as he was planning to use the death of the Potters. It was supposed to make him invincible but then again he does not feel that way any longer. 

And he hates Harrison Morte, the little Necromancer that has made him feel that way. 

~/*\~

Harry has taken a break from work to watch his 11th birthday pass with what only can be seen as eating popcorn and watching the shit show as no one has been able to find him and he has not shown up on any of the magical indicators. It’s comical watching Dumbledore and the Ministry fumbled the blame ball.

He does not need to come out of hiding. He is not planning on it, at least not for a very long time. Things between him and Tom are strained already. Harry can not trust himself not to give Tom something that he can use. But he supposes that part of helping to heal someone is to be open with them. 

Which just feels like he is giving Tom ammunition to throw back at him, bend him the way that he would have bent Quirrell that has taken up an apprenticeship with those that broke curses. He was enjoying himself and Harry really wished that he could say the same. 

He is now working with Human skeletons that he has gotten respectfully from those that have donated their bodies to science. Humans are very complex to try and rebuild. There are a lot of organs, tissues, and such to get right, and the first few times that he tries he makes things that look like they have been run over by cars. 

It makes him sick and he has to take long breaks between making the things.He knows that he could go about acquiring a fresh body, but then he can not make it in the image that he needs it, nor can he reconnect a magical core to it. The Stone is how he will be able to simulate the feeling of life, kick it back on. 

He attempts life kicking in with a cat. The thing turns out blind in one eye and it looks almost like there are stars there. He is a good cat, if not a little esoteric. He seems to wait for orders and follow them much like a dog. This becomes another riddle for him to puzzle out with Death because Harry does not want to control Tom like he is a puppet. 

There is no possible redemption if Harry is doing that. Yes it would be nice to not worry about the other going off and slaughtering people should he get away from harry. But overly one could not force another to change, nor should a human ever be able to have control over another. 

He wonders if building a homunculi thing would be easier, but the thought of using snake venom, and some of the ingredients that he would need to use to craft that, is far more sickening and seeping into magic that he can not bring himself to dabble in.

Yes, his magic is not going to come out pure by this, it's impossible for it. But he doesn’t want it to turn black completely and tainted beyond repair where he can't even manage a simple healing spell. That was the true difference between light and dark magic. Dark was doing things that were evil no matter how you sliced them or excuses that were used. Gray was what he was doing. He wasn’t hurting anyone and he was doing things respectfully as he could. He was doing it with full intention to heal. 

~/*\~

Harry opens up a little to Tom after the fact that he is begging not to be left alone for long periods of time. Harry won’t fool himself into believing that the other cares for him. He is just a convent person that keeps Tom from being alone and can have interesting talks to him about magic. 

Harry is tempted to use Moon Moon as a vessel so that Tom can be able to move around. The nearly blind cat is magically infused and would be stable, but when the cat mews at him Harry can not help but take pity on the thing that he has managed to give life. 

“And yes that is how I managed to catch the snitch my first year.”

~ I am Impressed. ~

“I honestly can’t tell if you are or not. You’re a person that doesn't even need a broom to fly.” 

~ Doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate someone that is good at sports. What I lacked in athletics, I made up for it though with cunning, wit, and well-timed attacks.~

“The great Tom Riddle admits that he is not great at all things. I am very surprised at this.”

There is something that sounds like laughter from the locket. ~Careful~ 

“Oh yes I forgot you are a big bad Dark Lord that cheated learning to fly on a broom, by bending magic to fly without one.”

~It was a tactical advantage, it is hard to fly and attack when one has to hold onto a broom.~

“Right are you sure that it wasn't because the one thing that you did not excel at was Intro to flying?”

~A bit concerning that you looked that far back into my past.~ Tom hisses slowly, it's hard to tell what he thinks about this.

Harry though can easily counter it. 

“I had to track down parts of your soul, anything that I could learn was useful.” 

~Next you will tell me that you knew my favorite study spots.~ Slight humor is back into that voice but Harry doesn't know again if that is an attempt to get to know him better. Tom seems to be able to dictate some of the conversations if Harry doesn’t catch himself. 

“I could take a few guesses.” Harry humors him. “The room of requirements, perhaps the chamber of secrets for things that you didn’t want out in the open. The library or common room if you wanted to be seen.”

~You do know me~ Tom sounds equally pleased and slightly off-put by that. ~And I know nothing about you really, you answer me things but not really.~

“I have told you some things, some things that others certainly do not know,” Harry answers simply. “I might tell you more when I can look at your face and tell you them. I can tell better than when someone is trying to deceive me.”

~You think that I would deceive you?~

“You have in the past,” Harry says simply and he is not foolish enough to believe that they are friends.

Tom is silent for a bit. ~How close are you to creating a body?~

“I am perhaps a year off, unless you want to be my puppet. The things I make are loyal to me. They listen for commands and I have yet to figure out how to give it free will. Perhaps it is because animals don’t have souls.”

~What year is it?~

“It has been 12 years since your defeat so 1993.” 

~You had to guess the year?~ 

“I don’t get out much. I did check to see if anyone would be dumb enough to try and get rid of your Diary as it is not a good time to be practicing some of the things that I am. People, mainly a very persistent old coot are worried about your return.”

~Dumbledore~ Tom hisses sourly.

“Yes, he has been pushing hard since his savior has gone missing.”

~Potter~ Tom hisses again. 

“Yes, I think he had some nice plans for him. Scratch that I know that he had them. It’s a pity that he messed it up.” 

~Doesn’t that go well for whatever you have planned as the child will not kill me?~

“Who says I am planning anything? Perhaps I simply am curious to see how it will all play out when I create a body for something that is essentially soul shards. Perhaps I care only to see if it is possible that you can change your fate.” 

~If that was all you wouldn’t be so…” Tom trails off. 

“Wouldn’t be so, what?” Harry lets a bit of his annoyance seep into his voice. 

~Kind.~ It is hushed and almost strange. 

“You think that I am kind?” Harry laughs softly, “I don’t think that you know me well enough to make that assumption. I have very selfish reasons for helping you.” 

Tom is quiet for a very long time and Harry is ready to take the thing off and head to sleep. 

~I think you are lying.~ 

Harry feels his anger bubbling up under the surface. “And I think you are delusional. I am going to bed.” 

He is about to take the locket off, before he can hear hiss something very, very softly. 

“What?” Harry demands. 

~Please don’t leave me alone…~

If that was not the most manipulative statement.

~Please.~ It is a lot more desperate than before. 

“I need to go to sleep,” Harry tells him slightly annoyed with whatever this was. 

~You can wear the locket, it's comforting to be with you. There is that what you wanted to hear me say?” Tom sounds angry, and Harry can feel it bleed through their connection. One that as of yet Tom has yet to realize.

“Not particularly,” Harry admits. “I want to know the real reason.” 

~That is the real reason.~ Tom hisses harshly back. ~I can’t stand to be alone with parts of myself. It’s painful. I told you this before.~

“You have.”

~Then stop making me ask, thinking that I am doing it to manipulate you or whatever you think that the reason is. If it helps you to sleep at night your presence is soothing and I am purely doing this as not to be all alone.~

Harry is not sure that he believes that but he starts sleeping with the locket on anyway. 

~/*\~

There is the horrible sound of bombs being dropped, the bomb shelter shakes and the boy wraps his arms tightly around himself. He holds on to the wand that is in his sleeve as if it is a prayer. There are many people crying and huddling together. The ground above them rumbles and he wonders if it will break and that they all will be crushed under hundreds of pounds of concrete and dirt. He can not do more than perhaps heal himself. He can not apparate away, nor can he simply block bombs. It is the best place for him.

He is shaking watching as there are families all around him. He has never experienced longing like this. Even if they were to die, they would die holding onto someone, knowing that they were worth something. There was not a soul that would do that for him and suddenly there is someone there. He has black hair and green eyes, though he can not see much of his face. He is looking at him with a steady gaze. 

“It's just a memory.” The voice is Harrison's. He realizes what is happening. He has fallen asleep or the shard has gotten too close to him again. But that does not explain why Harrison is there. “It’s all in the past too. You make it through this.” 

He is about the same age as he would have been at this time. 

“How are you here?” He asks and Harrison just shrugs 

“I was asleep with the locket like usual and as promised.” 

“So the shards are affecting you too…” Tom makes a face at this, he hates the idea of Harrison seeing him weak or really anyone for that matter. 

“Perhaps.” Harrison looks out at the people that are still crying around them. “Do you feel anything for those around you?”

“Them?” Tom scuffs. “They are just a bunch of Muggles.”

“Muggles that were like you trapped.” 

“No. I don’t feel anything for them.” Tom turns away so that he can’t look at them. “They are weak, crying, and if the ceiling would have fallen there wouldn’t have been anything they could do to stop it from crushing them. Muggles are disgusting.”

“You hate them?” Harrison asks him. “You don’t even know them.” 

“I don’t have to.” Tom hisses. “They are all the same.”

“They outnumber us you know, create things that even magic can not, for all their flaws they are still human like us. We both have been on the receiving end of bad Muggles, but they are not all like that.” 

Tom sneared standing up he doesn’t have to sit here and listen to this pointless lecture. The ceiling rumbled again and it was enough to put him back down on the ground. Even if it was a dream, memory, or combination it still feels real. 

“They are.” He insists. 

“That child is someone that has wronged you?” Harrison raises a dark brow. “That woman over there who can hardly move she is so old has done something so unforgivable that she should be crushed by those rocks.” 

“You’re magic you have to understand.” Tom tries for what he is not sure. He just hates them. He hates them so very much. And it must have appeared on his face.

“Perhaps I have this wrong, you don’t hate them just because they are Muggle. You hate them for what they have.” 

“They have nothing that I need or want.” Tom moves a little away from Harrison that’s form is turning a bit black around the edges like a shadow that stretches. 

“I think that you're envious of them in a way, they live simply with families. They have a community that you weren’t able to be part of for 11 years. I understand that being considered Muggle-born and rejected by both Muggles and those that were in your house must have been horrible.”

“I don’t want to belong with Muggles. We’re magic, we’re special, we shouldn’t associate with them.” 

“And yet without that association, you wouldn’t exist, I would not exist. Many before us would not exist.”

“Shut up!” Tom hates Harrison more so than he had before, even if he has no one else currently and even if Harrison was the only one to search for him. 

“Not your usual tact.” Harrison reaches toward him and grips his hand, and the memories dissipate. There is quiet and there are the shards that were close to him, too close to him. Harrison looks out across the small space and the shards, there is one that he can see drifting closer to him, that he brushes with his other hand and it spins away bringing up a very dark room. 

Tom doesn’t recognize it. 

There is nothing there but a cot that he can just make out. 

“This is where I used to live.” Harrison sits himself down on the cot. “They told me I was a freak and called me boy, not even my name. The teachers called me a terror and I hated myself for a very long time. If only I was normal. Then they would not fear me.” 

Dust flies and it is then that Tom notices that they are under the stairs. 

“Why defend them? This is what they do.” Tom demands. “They kill, they hurt, they destroy the world of all the resources, pollute the magical areas, and hate things that are more powerful than them.”

“Fear only breeds hate, yes. But just because of that doesn't mean that we have to be like the worst of them, or play into their expectations of us. Godric knows how I feel about expectations, but even as my family was awful to me doesn’t mean that I have to be that way back. To hate them is to put in too much effort if it gives them validation. I will not be bothered to care for those that have no care to them. But I have met many muggles that have been simply kind to me because it is the right thing to do.” 

“Your family did this to you?” Tom pushes against the door but it doesn’t move. They are in a confined space. 

“I was sent to them after the Wizarding War took my parents from me.” 

That hit him hard, it was a sucker punch that he had not been expecting. 

“A lot of magical blood was lost.” Harrison continues on. “Many innocent lives stomped out, many left worse off than before. The goal that you set causes much death. I have always wondered why and what your end goals were. But I suppose that by the second Horcrux you had already succumbed to madness. When I put you back together what will you do with another chance.”

He doesn’t know… 

He honestly doesn’t completely know. 

~Find a new way of immortality~ He answers with what he knows. 

“And after that, What will you do with your forever?” Harrison seems to really be studying him and Tom decides that he will not answer that. 

“Think about it.” Harrison seems to understand. 

~/*\~ 

Things go smoothly from there Harry spends his 13th birthday attempting to track down a rat and is unsuccessful at least at the moment in finding him. He shouldn’t have forgotten about Sirius; it makes him feel incredibly horrible as he knows that the breakout has happened because of the newspapers. He supposes that he will have to attend Hogwarts for the day under the invisibility cloak if he really wants to catch him. 

Quirrell has been offered the open Defense position and is eagerly writing about possible lesson plans. Harry is happy for him. They are set to meet up and Tom is not happy that he is leaving him for a little while. 

“Clingy bastard.” Harry mutters to himself as he prepares to leave his house for the first time in a long time. 

Quirrell meets him in Hogsmeade and they have food at the 3 broomsticks. Harry hardly recognizes him as he has not necessarily grown, but he bears a few new scares and is certainly in better shape than before. 

They start with small talk and Harry tells him that he had taken some time off to study some of the books that he had gotten after his last adventure. He lets Quirrell do most of the talking. The other is very talkative and Harry just sits back and watches him go. There is still a slight bit of nervousness to him. But not nearly that of what it once was. He has a confidence about him that Harry really can appreciate.

“So yes, I did meet that coven of Vampires that I always thought that I would and they did not try to seduce me.”

“I don’t know they seemed to really want to have stabbed you.” Harry laughs slightly, “Perhaps that was just their way of saying it was knife to meet you.”

“That was horrible Harrison.”

“I am pretty sharp, I can come up with a few more. You’ll be fanging me for them the next time that you get into one of your scuffles.”

It makes the other groan. 

He is really enjoying his drink, it is hitting him harder than most he usually has. But he needs it, he has not had time away from the mess he has created. He has started the final potions. He would be raising Tom by Yule. The winter solstice would have the proper moons and was a powerful date. He couldn’t see himself trusting Tom enough right away enough to really relax like this. 

“How have you not been killed yet by what you have faced.” Quirrell shakes his head. “If you're stopping to banter with them.”

“I was rejected by Death for being too annoying.” Harry shrugs. 

“Somehow I actually believe that.” His friend, yes that was what they were, laughed. 

There were a few people looking over at them and another person entered the bar. Harry’s eyes widened upon looking at the man. What was he doing here, well it was Hogsmeade but Harry didn’t think that the other drank or really had a social life. 

“Hello, Severus.” Quirrell greets him and is not scared of him, just surprised to see him. “He teaches Potions where I will be teaching.” He gives a quick introduction. “This is my friend Harrison.” 

Snape has a look cross his face and Harry wonders if he is seeing the resemblance to James. It was there, even with the wild hair that he had was worse than his fathers would ever be, and he has chosen better fitting glasses that do not hide his eyes.

“It is nice to meet you.” Harry offers. 

“I was passing through and I saw you here Quirinus and thought that I would at least remind you that should you make a fool of yourself before the term starts there is a fair chance that you won’t be teaching this coming fall.”

Harry frowns, remembering there are a great deal of things that he doesn’t like about the man. “Good thing that Quirinus couldn’t be foolish if he tried, that is my job.” 

Snape again is sizing him up, studying him. But he looks very surprised by the response. 

“Harrison…” Quirinus trails off completely red in the face.

“I am the one that banters with Veela, duals with Dark Wizards, and annoys Death on a daily.” Harrison shrugs. “You are the smart one, going to teach the tricks to the trade. I would be a lousy teacher, I don’t have the patience. And if the all staff is like Severus here, I wouldn’t make it a night without wanting to throw down. ”

“Excuse me?” Snape blinks.

“You insulted Quirinus without reason, he’s drinking but so what it’s not like he is going to disgrace your school by relaxing for the evening. I don’t take well to bullies, so if anyone else acted the way that you did then I would just have to challenge them so they could use their spells to get over whatever problem that they had with me.” 

“Harrison it’s fine.” Quirinus actually seems to want to break up the fight that is hanging in the air. Harry would like to fight. He hasn’t in a long time. “Severus will be leaving or we will.” 

Harry relaxes with the hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes well enjoy your evening.” Snape scowls at him and makes long strides for the door.

“I will, now that you are not here to ruin it.” Harry says just as coldly back.

The evening gets back on track, but Harry still has a nagging feeling that Snape would be digging into things that he shouldn’t be, even if there wasn’t much on Harrison Morte to look into. 

~/*\~

Voldemort has started to let himself be called Tom. There is no use arguing with Harry and he is willing to put up with such a name while waiting patiently for Yule. He knows that Harrison has been working very hard on potions that would be needed. And he looks forward to his rebirth so that he can see the person that has kept him for the past few years in contact with parts of his soul. He wants to meet the person that seemed to know far too many of his secrets, that sounds young, yet older. 

He doesn’t even know what he will do when he really meets the other. Part of him wants to kill him for putting him through this hell and the other part of him wants to try and learn about the person that has put so much effort into reviving him and talks as if he knows Life and Death personally. 

~/*\~

It is a cold day when the candles are lit to the many arrays that he has set up, the many ruins that he has carved into the wooden floor. He has built this complex network of spells, enchantments, and wards. He has altered things, pushed the boundaries of magic. He is playing with things that he is not supposed to play with. Even with a semi-blessing from the entity that waits beyond the veil. 

There are three Alchemical symbols that are prominent in his array, the ones for Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury. Salt being used as it was the basis of life, vital as water for a body, allowing for drawing past the flesh and bone of a person and to souls. Sulfur for ist presence is related to the spirit of life, allowing him to draw out a soul and manipulate it. And finally, Mercury as the fluid used to manipulate the souls of the living through and beyond the veil of Death. 

And so there is a bit of Mercury the actual substance handled with the most amount of care. The locket laid in the center with the skeleton that has been provided by a donation, perhaps an unwilling one. He had all that he needed to forcibly drag the shard that held the consciousness of Tom from it and bind it to the body that he was about to make. 

This was going to be messy because Harry was essentially tearing a soul from limbo and it was going to be very painful for Tom and to Harry if he fucked it all up. 

Of course this was his best chance and his best shot. Harry lifted his wand and all the lights danced, he lit up his arrays one by one, and concentrated on turning the enchantments. Drawing from the stone, and the bones to form flesh and blood. The body jerked and the nerves and muscles formed first, sheathing the bone with thick tissues. Then the skin, covered over the bloody leaking meat. The white and pure parts of Harry’s core poured out the desire to bring life, healing, and someone that had been given a terrible life a second chance. 

He drew life from the stone, that was a sin against life and the divine. Fires bleed into blue flames carving against the symbols. The salts ignited and the room was bathed in the smell. The body rose from the place on the ground, as features were carved like putty. Harry concentrated, forcing the shard of soul into place. 

And the naked form fell to the ground hard in convulsing and ragged breathing is forced out of a body that has never had to breathe. The action stops mere minutes after it has started and Harry extinguishes the candles one by one. Stepping through his elaborate circles. Conjuring a robe and lifting the teenager off the floor. 

Brown eyes look cloudy into his for a few seconds before the shut again. 

Harry runs the diagnostic check, all things seem to be functioning correctly. The magical core was in the right place, though it is small and underdeveloped as it will take Tom a while to get it back to where it should be. 

He puts Riddle to bed, in his room that has been prepared and leaves him there to have his discussion with Death that he knows is waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now have Tom back. He might not be in such a good mood about that magic core though... Oh well, that is a problem for future Harry. 
> 
> 〜(￣▽￣〜)


	6. Dawn of a New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry attempt to get along... too bad Tom has a temper and Harry is not a fan of people that act ungrateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, another chapter ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀

There is a small breeze that blows from a cracked window. The snow is softly falling however there is nothing that is actually making it through the window because of the protective spell that is placed there. It more of just hits the sill and dissipates. The soft light shines through the white curtains. He watches them with clarity that he has not been able to feel in a while. Having eyes that work is such a good feeling in comparison to the other feelings that he has. 

He hurts all over, his breathing feels like it is hard. Not because his chest is tight or because he has been injured there. He just has not had to breathe in such a long time that it almost feels foreign like there is a weight there that is ever so slight. His heart is beating and it thuds and he can feel the double like a pulse when he leans on his arms. It's strange but in a good way he is alive. 

Really alive...

This body has a pale complexion but it is nothing like the way he had looked when he had made all those Horcruxes. He can tell now the physical ramifications that he had exposed himself to. He is no longer bone-thin, there is coloration, and he can feel the blood that flows through his veins. It amazes him how much he was starting to look like the dead and feel like it without realizing it. There is something almost awing about feeling alive. 

He never wanted to die, having seen so many deaths in his childhood the idea of it still scared him. The depression left little medical care for orphans and so when illness swept the orphanage there had always been those that were dying or clinging to life. He had narrowly survived himself from it. It had prompted his resolve not to die as he had never had a chance to live. Later when the Bombs were falling and everyone was dying like cattle to another World War he had vowed he wouldn’t be like those that were burnt alive, or buried under the rubble. He would not be weak and die when there was so much to be done and to have what he never had. So much to learn and do. 

He had started his quest for immortality with the thoughts that the murders that he committed were nothing. They still were, and he had no problem choosing his own survival over theirs, but he can see that he had been giving up things that made him alive. 

He adjusts himself so that he is sitting up and feels a weight on his chest and feels at the locket that is around his neck, feeling each crevice and the small symbol that is on the back of it that wasn’t there before. There are a few ruins that are tattooed into his skin, they are raised ever so slightly as they are new. He doesn’t recognize them, and he has spent a lot of time studying ancient runes. He traces them and can feel faint traces of magic. Light and unlike his own. 

There is nothing special about this room, it is rather plain with a few things set up that he can recognize on otherwise barren shelves. There is the Hufflepuff cup, the Ravenclaw Diadem, a small box for a ring, and a few stones that line the sill by his window. They are 7 well-polished stones, and he wonders how the other has gotten ones that remind him so very much of his youth. Harrison knows a great deal about him. He stands on shaking legs and feels like he is shorter than he was before. His joints feel odd and stiff, he is not used to making this bodywork. There are clothes resting on a Hogwarts trunk in front of the bed. It’s an old trunk, he can see the dents in it from its well use. There are the initials RB and the claps were silver and he almost feels like he should know that abbreviation. 

He puts on the clothes, they are plain but remind him much of what his old school uniforms had been like, trousers, a white dress shirt, vest. And a black robe that he had been sleeping in. Harrison even had all the sizes correctly mended. 

It was a bit creepy in a way, and he can’t help but grip at the locket. There is no sign of a wand, or anything magical really in the room. He practices simple wandless Lumos and the magic fizzles in his hand. He blinks at it. 

He tries again, feeling like the magic is just under his skin but he can not force it out of himself. He tries an Accio for his ring that is on the shelf and it makes it halfway before it falls onto the floor and he has to go and pick it up, like a Muggle…

Already there is something wrong with him. He seethes as he makes his way to the door. He would get this sorted. There is the soft sound of music coming from the hallway, odd music that makes him pause before he just whips the thing open to meet this Harrison personally. 

He wanders the home catching sight of himself in one of the mirrors. He gives it pause as his eyes are not red. They are brown, perhaps there's a hint of yellow flecks but they are not how they were. He pokes at his cheeks that are puffed out and not sunken in as they had been. It feels weird he knows that it is himself, but he doesn’t feel like it is at the same time. 

It can’t be him.

He looks so human… like he was before he had split his soul into tiny fragments. He looks normal, almost annoyingly so. It reminds him of his school years, and the body reflects that of his 16-year-old self. It must be why he feels short as he was given such a youthful body. But at this age, there should have been a better magical core. 

It makes him all the more insistent in telling, no demanding, that Harrison fix this. He will not live if he has to be no better than a squib. 

There are many rooms, many are locked and he makes his way through near-empty halls, there are no portraits or pictures on the walls. So it is hard to gauge exactly where he is. The home seems familiar though he possibly has spent a few minutes in the place, or perhaps a few hours even before his demise. Still, he follows the sound of music as he is sure that this will lead to him finding Harrison. 

There is a boy standing at the small counters of the kitchen and there is music playing from a Muggle radio that is turned up loudly. He is familiar with Rock and Roll having at least heard some of the Beatles and a few of the rising bands of the times. But this is very loud, jarring, and annoying. The boy turns to him and it is like that dream had hit him.

He had not discussed it with the other, but now he can clearly see those green eyes that are looking at him. The way the black hair tufts out into almost several spontaneous cowlicks. He pushes up his large rounded glasses. And pauses in making whatever it is that he is working on, putting the spoon into the bowl. 

“It's good to see you up, Tom.” His voice is the one that has been keeping him company for months… years really. He is smiling slightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact his eyes look a bit cold and dead. “I didn’t expect you to be up so soon.” 

Harrison has turned away from him. 

It is forced politeness that Tom is very used to hearing for Slytherins and his followers. 

“How long was I out?” Tom has not realized how hungry he is, so he forgets to be annoyed that he should be that the other calls him that and not his proper title. 

The idea of food is a nice one, he has not tasted anything in a decade at least and he knows that he will need it to keep this form running and perhaps strengthen him, as he has not traveled far and it feels like he has been walking for hours. 

“Only a couple of hours, I was expecting days, to be honest when I created Moon Moon he was out for 6. 

“Moon Moon?” Tom grabs onto the chair that is near him because he has a slight dizzy spell and the body is not yet something that he is in full control of. 

Harrison looks at him concerned. “Moon Moon is my cat or at least one of them. I have 4 as I had to practice bringing things back to life. You should sit down before you fall down.” 

“Right.” Tom feels slight irritation knowing that there are four furballs running around that will probably be making a large mess. He is supposed to be confronting the other on the fact that he is having issues with his magic, but suddenly that feels like it could and should wait until he has tried to eat something. 

He sits and one of the cats in question jumps onto the table. That would be his case and point, he doesn’t like cats because they are always on everything, leaving hair and hairballs everywhere. Abraxas’s cat used to think it was fun to pee on people’s bedsheets. 

“That’s Loki,” Harrison explains and the black cat gets closer and meows loudly. “The best of my cats I am going, to be honest, that one is first with free will.” 

The all-black furry thing moves closer to Tom as if expecting him to pet it. He studies it as it is something that Harrison has made much like himself. Harrison watches him judgingly and he reaches a hand out to pet the cat as he feels that if he shows some sort of emotions or acts like he cares if the cat will like him he can use that later. Animals usually liked him even if he is sure that he has killed more of them than people. He had to learn somehow and there had always been an abundance of rats and other things to attempt spells on. 

Loki leans into his touch and purrs moving along the table all the way, to the edge out of his reach. Her tail is flicking back and forth. 

“You can’t have a pancake.” Harrison stares the green-eyed cat down. It's almost humorous and perhaps the cats can be a source of weakness for the boy. He catches Tom’s eyes and he suddenly is no longer smiling. 

Tom though forces himself to smile and look as inviting as he can. It will not do if the other doesn't trust him at all. 

“You look freakin creepy, you're giving me flashbacks to the time that a part of you tried to kill me,” Harrison mutters.

Tom stops smiling as wide, it makes his eye twitch. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable.” 

“Godric it was easier when you were a locket, thought it would be better if I could read your face but it's so fake that it makes me want to punch it.” Harrison shakes his head. 

“Would you rather that I was rude to you?” Tom hisses. “because I can be that way too if you want.” 

His anger causes the little magic that he has to surface. Again there is a fizzle of magic that Harrison doesn’t fail to note. He watches it with something akin to amusement and fascination. 

“It would probably be a bit more normal. However, I think that we got along well enough when you were just a bunch of soul fragments so go back to acting like that.”

“Right let me just sit passively till you try to engage me then.” Tom folds his arms.

“Now you're just upset for no good reason.” Harrison shakes his head putting some batter into the pan. “I'll make you some as well if you chat with me like a normal person.”

“And what would you like to discuss.”

“How you are feeling for one.” Harrison tilts his head and large black bangs shift to show there is a very ugly scar hidden above his left eyebrow and spreading across the temple. The question hits him a little off guard but he supposes that it shouldn’t as the boy had created him this form and wants to know if there are things right and wrong with it.

Harrison wandlessly sends things from the cabinets to the tables and lifts simultaneously Loki off of the table and onto the floor. It’s a swarm of plates, silverware, and other things that would go with breakfast. Tom is mildly surprised by the skill the other displays but then he has a feeling that Harrison can not be anything but remarkable for his age. He couldn’t be older than 14. 

“I am stiff,” Tom answers carefully, watching the other no longer sure how he wants to go about confronting the other about the less than acceptable magical core that he has. Perhaps his deposits of Magic are low because of his rebirth. 

“Yes that can sometimes happen, it's best to slowly get used to a full range of motions.” There is a second cat that has made its way into the kitchen. This one is orange and striped. “Garfield do not get under that chair.” 

The cat stops instantly and moves away as if it is a puppet. There is no magic in the air and Tom remembers very vividly how Harrison mentioned that everything that he made had the problem of being under his complete control with apparently the exception of Loki and perhaps himself. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a fail-safe built into him. 

Harrison meets his gaze, a small smile forms on his face. “You have free will like Loki.” He answers the unasked question. “It wouldn’t be nearly as interesting as Morte would say if you didn’t. Well, that and it would be impossible to mend your soul otherwise.”

“You still think that it’s possible?” Tom plays with his fingers trying to get used to moving them. They are the harder things to use, it is a miracle that he really has been able to button his shirt. But he wouldn’t have come down here if he couldn’t even dress himself. 

“I have to believe that it is.” Harrison puts a few pancakes in front of him and then turns his back to him to finish making himself some. “I put a lot of effort in, so don’t fail.”

Tom grips the butterknife tighter. “I don’t fail.” He scowls. 

He has little intention to fix his soul as if the pieces are near each other, certainly, that is enough. He is not bonding with the parts of him that are weak.

“Not very often.” Harrison sounds amused. “But I can give you a pretty good list of mistakes made on your account that don’t even include murder.” 

He runs a hand through his hair pushing the hair back and Tom can now see that there is a perfect lighting shape to the scar, it spreads out and thins. It reminds him of the look of veins as it travels down to his eyebrow. 

He takes a deep breath feeling like the other is purposely getting under his skin, when he was in the Locket Harrison would often do this. It's really getting old. But politeness demands that he at least play along to get information and perhaps food out of it. 

“How did you get such a curse scar on your face?” He switches topics. 

“A failed attempt at an unforgivable.” Harrison sets himself down on the other side of the table. “You are hardly the first that has tried to kill me.” 

That he can believe.

“You would have been an infant when I was at the height of my power unless you mean my Horcruxes tried to kill you for removing them from where they should have been.” He moves the conversation to a place that perhaps he can finally get some answers.

Tom has never liked being uncertain of anything. 

“Oh they tried, but they were not that strong. I think the one in Lestrange’s vault gave me the most trouble just because it was a pain to get to. I know that Malfoy has the diary and has not given it up yet. Which contradicts his usual cowardly acts.”

“Malfoy wouldn’t get rid of something so precious to me.” Tom refuses to believe that his best would do such a thing, yes the man was a Slytherin but certainly, he had some sort of loyalty as his grandfather. 

“He would.” Harrison fixes him with a look that says he is far from kidding. “He denounced you the second that he realized that he couldn’t take over your little group. The ones that were loyal to you died or they were locked up for their actions. Many claimed that they only joined because of threats and imperious curses. Your Empire died the second that you were taken off the board. Trying to kill a prophesized child has repercussions.” 

Harrison doesn’t even seem bothered by telling him this. He simply just cuts his pancakes and then eats them with tremendous speed. Tom though has a very sinking feeling if that is true, he has a feeling it is as none looked for him, but still, it's almost painful besides disappointing. He curses the soul parts of him. 

“So does letting them live.” He tries to keep the conversation moving, becoming more and more annoyed with the passing seconds as Tom can only look at Harrison with disgust and awe. He never had seen someone woof down such a tremendous amount of food in such a short amount of time. The boy then whisked a cup of tea towards himself and started to down that.

Perhaps he again is trying to get out of telling him anything important. He wouldn’t get out of it that easily. 

“Where I came from if you didn’t eat then the walruses would get your food and then you would starve.” Harrison rests his head on his hand. “In this house, I would say eat before it gets cold or the cats sneak a bite.”

Tom dares to look away from his food and his captor. He can see the line of cats on the end of the table now, there are four. There is the orange one that is Garfield, Loki, a cat that has one bad eye and looks like it is nothing but striped thick hair, and one that has no hair at all that is in a red and gold sweater. The blue eyes of the cat peirce his and the hairless cat makes a move closer. 

He perhaps out of instinct moves his arms to block his food, feeling much like he is 10 years old again and the older kids are approaching him. The cat though doesn’t seem at all bothered.

“Voldie.” Harrison tuts. “You almost stepped on the butter.” 

Tom actually coughs, nearly choking on his food. 

The hairless cat tilts his head and pauses before making a move towards the syrup and promptly bats it off the table. 

Harrison laughed at him and all he can do is glare as he regains the ability to breathe. He can only glare at him. He is sure that Harrison is making fun of him now and trying to get a rise out of him, for what he isn’t sure. But he named that ugly cat Voldie of all things!

“I am so glad that I named him after you.” The boy fixes the mess with a simple wave of his hand. “He has such a moody personality and is so destructive. He also looks like you after your final split attempt. ” 

“I will kill you.” Tom completely means it. He is so annoyed and done at this point that he is really considering it regardless of the consequences. 

“Can it wait? I would rather not die and inconvenience Death this morning.” Harry picks up Voldie and the wrinkly cat leans into his touch excitedly and the other cats start to make moves towards him hardly missing some of the fruits and the butter. 

Harrison stands and takes Voldie with him and all the cats except for Loki make their way out of the room after the boy. And just like that, he had left again without allowing a real talk or giving any explanations. 

Tom rubs at his face and when he looks up Loki is close again to him, and he eats all that he feels comfortable and then lets the cat have the few remaining bits. He holds up his hand and runs it down her spine. She purrs at him and Tom wonders if this one is at least the sanest thing in the house besides himself. 

He has an eerie calm come over him despite his anger. 

He turns off the annoying music and tries to find where the boy has traveled to. He will force the other to answer his questions, and fix this body if it needs it. Loki hops down to follow him still licking at her lips to get the rest of the syrup off of them. 

Harrison is in the living room, the cats are spread around him and there is a book in his hands that he is taking notes from. 

“You will tell me how you know so much about me, why you really brought me back, and why my magic isn’t up to par.” Tom meets the green eyes as they look up from the book. 

“Is that so?” The boy closes it. “I have told you before the purpose is to mend your soul, and the other parts at this point and I don’t think knowing that will help you in the slightest, nor do I think that most of that is your business.”

“It is as you have been holding me here and if you plan to keep me here till my magic settles or is fixed. And just because you want me to fix it doesn’t explain the why.” He isn’t making any headway and he just wants to curse the other into compliance. His magic is fizzling again. 

“And I think the why is simple and has been explained, as for your magic, you're going to have to relearn that core is the best that I can do.” Harrison grits out, his patience is being eaten away as well. 

“Then give me a wand so that I can relearn.” 

Harrison looks at him like giving him that would be on par with doing the unthinkable. And perhaps it really was in a way. The other doesn’t like him, it's obvious. 

~/*\~

“Demanding aren't you, have you ever heard of being grateful to someone.” Harry stands. “Like real apologizes you aren’t capable of it are you? You have been awake maybe 4 hours max and already acting nothing but selfish. I spent 6 years researching to create that form for you, I spent 10 years of my life tracking down your withered soul.” 

Harry can not help himself. He is finally just past the breaking point, he is magically and physically exhausted. He just wants the other to leave him alone for a few minutes. He has been busy for months and stressed out, and he can’t just relax and have a decent conversation about ground rules and other topics a bit later into this whole thing. 

He can feel his magic in the air, it's almost all-encompassing. Its powerful light and dark blended and far too big of a core for someone that looks his age and he knows it. Tom knows it because he takes one cautious step back from him. He doesn’t seem like he is scared, just simply giving space and Harry takes a few breaths and lets the magic subside.

“Can you just chill for 5 minutes without making me regret it.” 

“You think this is a fun experience for me?” Tom hisses back. “I spent 11 years wandering as a wraith in constant agony only to be stuffed into a locket and forced to relive all the memories that I purposely cut out of myself and now that I am reborn I can not do anything but move around stiffly.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for ending up that way. You tried to kill a 1-year-old child. You murdered his parents, and you have killed hundreds of others, mad or not. You should be happy you're even alive.” 

“I had to if there was a chance that all my work would have been undone. I needed to end it. I was winning the war. I was close to bringing about a new order.”

“And that is justification?” Harry bites back. “It's justified to rule by fear and murder. It's alright that you destroyed lives and put us all into a system there is no coming back from. One that is weak, fearful, and is looked down on by all the governments of Europe. One that sacrifices rights that all Wizards and Witches are entitled to because they are scared of having the next Voldemort on the rise.” 

“The ministry has always been weak even in my time. They did not have the strength to do what needed to be done. They couldn’t see the Muggle threat or the Muggle-born one. They wanted to be all-inclusive at the expense of our culture and our world.” Tom is moving closer to him, his face one of pure ugly rage. 

It’s like the chamber of secrets all over again, and Harry is really reminded that even if he can pity and sympathize with some of the things that happened in Tom’s life as he has felt some of the nightmares, and seen the memories that crafted the damaged person in front of him. He knows that he hates the other still. Their nice conversations of magic could not save the other from that feeling. There really was no understanding or friendship between them. And it is slightly painful in a way. 

But that was just him being stupid again, letting anyone close to himself even at an arms reach still brought him nothing but pain. 

“And congratulations you made it worse,” Harry growls. “You created a world that fears anything that could be considered Dark Magic, where there is no chance to learn even how to properly defend yourself. You created a world that thinks that suppression is the best coping method, and where Muggleborns will never learn our culture. You created a divide that brought all the hate, prejudice, and evil back to the surface and the best part is it is completely legal.” 

“Then I will fix it,” Tom says like he knows all the answers to life's many questions. “I will regroup my followers and create new ones. I will make a system that allows for our heritage to shine.”

Harry loses it completely. “That heritage is part of the problem; it will not work in the modern age. You have seen what Muggles can do, you saw those bombs drop. Certainly, you can see that if we don’t make peace and build a stronger united front then there is a chance there will not be magic left in the world.” 

“I will fix it,” Tom repeats himself. “I am sane enough to realize that there needs to be more calculated planning, perhaps a more political war front. I can take the position of Minister.” Harry hates how thoughtful that he seems about that. “Better registration and we can make it so there is freedom to practice all sorts of Magic. I might be starting at near square one, but I should be able to rise again. I can make it so that I rule over this continent and we have a united front against Muggles when it eventually reaches that point.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Harry can not help but stare at him. “There is not a single person beyond the deranged that wants you back on this plane. You can’t rule by fear even if you can become immortal again.”

Yes, Harry had to have been slightly deranged. He had brought this person back and thought that he wouldn’t care what Tom decided to do with his second chance, but now he really realizes that he does and it's a bit too late to just take it back. Because even with the person that is standing in front of him very close he can not kill him. 

Perhaps its stupid stubbornness to refuse to admit that he has wasted 13 years of this new life, and 18 of his old one because of this man, that acts like a spoiled child that thinks that he can fix things by forcing his will onto others. But he was selfish and anything that he built would crumble somewhat good intentioned or otherwise as he thought himself to be the only one that really mattered. 

“That is where you're wrong Harrison.” The smile on the other's face is sharp. “Many countries and empires were ruled that way and if I find out how to live forever without shredding my soul worse that it is then I can have an eternity to fix it all.” 

Harry can’t even take his eyes off the monster standing in front of him. Yes, there was no saving a person like this. One could just do their best to keep them from other people. If he never got his magic back then it was perhaps for the best. His hate burns brighter than ever before, combined with his own self-loathing. 

“You deserve to burn in the circles of hell for what you have done and what you think you will do in the future. I was a fool for thinking that you could even possibly understand the hurt that you have caused or learn to show any remorse. You are nothing but selfish hiding behind idealistic goals to proclaim your righteousness.” 

He feels the hands-on him before he really has a chance to comprehend that Tom is in his space. 

“Careful Harrison.” His voice is low. “I owe you a lot, but that doesn’t mean that I won't hurt you.” 

Harry might have been mad because he laughs. “You have already hurt me greatly Riddle.” He will never call him Tom again, that is too friendly and too personal. They are anything but. He tries to pull the other off of him as his throat feels pressure on it, cutting off any oxygen that he would have had access to. It makes the last of his laughs get cut off. 

And Harry then does fight back. 

There are kicks, punches, and Harry’s raw magic slamming at the other. It ends with Tom pinning him to the ground and using his body weight to keep him there. His nose is bleeding and he looks deranged. He really is trying to kill him, isn't he? The pressure on his neck is making his eyes water. When he gets up he is going to curse the other, unconscious. Harry will not be made a victim in his own home. 

The chokehold is released as Tom is hurled off of him. 

**You shall not harm my Master, Riddle.** Death’s voice is strong and Harry sits up to see the familiar form of a woman in black standing between them.

It’s Death’s favorite default and even in this form, he is horrifying. Shadows and things from the veil are swarming around his feet under the nice heels. His hair is charged with magic and the porcelain face has black veins that are running underneath the glowing with fury eyes. Death has never been angry in Harry’s presence before and it solidifies that he takes the job of having a Master very seriously even if he usually is very light-hearted and annoyed about it. 

**Try it again and I will drag you to the burning circles soul piece by soul piece so that you can experience the fires of hell before I put you right back to purgatory where you belong.**

Death takes a step forward and the dark seeps out of the form with each careful click of his shoes against the hardwood. Harry can hear the whispers of the veil coming into the mortal plane. Tom scoots away from him horrified, eyes comically large. But even though he is still pissed at the other, he does sort of pity him at this moment. 

“I didn’t need you to intervene, it would have been interesting to see him kill me and then for me to just come back and curse him.” Harry rubs his neck and gets to his feet. “But I suppose that this saves me the trouble.” 

Tom glances between them, Death calls back the voices, and even then his form is still wavering showing just how inhuman that he is. He seems to have calmed down at Harry’s light tone. 

**When you picked this task I was pretty optimistic, but I didn’t count on the both of you fighting like children within the first few hours.**

Death shakes his head and the black hair moves with it, his eyes stop glowing as he is no longer incredibly angry, it has vanished as quickly as it had been there. 

“I can’t help that he can't be grateful for me making him breakfast and a body. He just demands more and more.” Harry is starting to slightly agree that perhaps he has been egging the other on this morning, but that didn’t mean that he was going to accept that the other tried to choke him out for their very differing opinions. Especially because he wouldn’t have fought as harshly should he have been a little more rested and had time to ready himself for Tom’s inevitable bullshit. 

**Yes truly he is ungrateful.** There is an eye roll, **However answers would have been useful in putting everyone onto the same page. I agreed not to come knocking so soon and to act normally, on the principle that you thought that it would help if Riddle did not feel terrorized into attempting to change.**

“And I stand by that knowing the entirety of Death has a hand in wanting you to fix yourself creates unneeded problems. He is horrified by you.” 

Tom has gotten up to his feet but he is shaking. He looks even whiter than before and that can not at all be healthy. 

“Who or what are you?” He just manages out, he probably really doesn’t want to come to terms that he is face to face with Death. It’s worse than his own boggart.

 **I am Death, the grim, Reaper of souls, I go by many names, and I have been around since the dawn of time so there have been many of them over the millennia. But young Harry here is my Master and he calls me Morte.**

There is such power behind those words and the previous bit of magic has shown his powers rather well. Tom looks like he is trying to comprehend the situation that he has landed himself in. There is a very soft and frail smile that forms on his face, and then promptly faints. 

Death almost looks like he wants to laugh but doesn’t as Harry rubs at his face. 

~/*\~

The living room comes back into view. 

**Ah young Riddle you are up again.**

The voice is too close and Tom draws back from it. His eyes adjusting to the lighting he has been moved to the chair he notes. Loki is laying at the top of the chair and the creature known as Death is right next to him. Much larger than before and shadows stretching every which way and that. 

“Don’t loom over him he might pass out again.” Harry is looking at him, his eyes are hidden by his glasses. “And I only want to talk about this once and don’t need it to have interruptions.” 

**Fine.** Death draws away. 

“Let’s start fresh.” Harrison has made himself comfortable on his leather sofa. Voldie made a move to sit there and he took the cat onto his lap. “My name is Harrison Morte as I have adopted this name, I am the Master of Death, first-class Necromancer, from the noble house of Peverell, Black… and Potter.” 

The boy in front of him…

He was…

He was Harry Potter the chosen one. 

“Harry Potter.” Tom has to say it out loud to confirm it. His guts are twisting uncomfortably as if Harry is the master of death there is no hope to beat such an opponent. 

“Yes, I rather hate that name. I know that my parents gifted me it, but I am sure that you understand not liking the name that you were given. Harry Potter comes with a lot of strings attached.” Volde starts to close his eyes and Harrison sighs deeply relaxing his back against the sofa. 

“If you revived me, I doubt that you are planning to kill me.” Tom tries to ignore the fact that Loki is pawing at his head. He is already on Harry or Harrison’s bad side or not exactly in the good graces. He had acted rashly. He needed to be more careful with his next moves and hitting the stupid cat was going to cause problems. 

“I tried that once killing you. I mean, this is my second go at life.” Harrison snorts as Loki flops herself on his head. “I killed every single one of those little soul shards, had you fighting me at every turn murdering all of my friends and remaining family members. I won the war and things were still grim and then because they feared the power I possessed they killed me.”

“Couldn’t have another rising Dark Lord.” Tom smiles slightly because that was just ironic, the whole situation that he was in was rather comical in a very twisted way. 

“Yes, Dumbledore made sure to ensure that my death followed shortly after yours. But you could say that because he had me killed that I learned a few things.”

**I think that would be my cue. Young Harry had collected all 3 of my prized artifacts and thus rose to the vacant slot of my Master.**

“The Deathly Hallows.” Tom breathes, he had thought them a foolish myth that only the truly desperate looked for such as Grindelwald, but now that he is staring at the literal monster of death himself he can not deny the old children's story. That chilling feeling runs up his spine that sometimes old tales have hints of truth to them. 

**I never liked that name.**

Death actually huffs and folds his or her or its arms as it's still looking like a female woman with black eyes that match the hair. 

“The point is Riddle, you can’t kill me even if you want to. I will just come back and if you do destroy this body, I’ll just be reborn.” Harry waves his hand like he is getting bored of this. He notes that the other is not calling him Tom anymore, which he would prefer instead of Riddle as that is the name of just the Muggle side of his blood and he hates them more than he hates the orphans he grew up with, and that is impressive all things considering. 

“So why bring me back at all?” Tom sighs holding onto his knees doing his best to stay calm and think his way out this one. He could usually do this with ease, but Harrison has seen shards of his soul and knows his past very well. And even if it sounds crazy to think that he has been reborn Tom believes him. “You know my ideas on politics even if you don’t like them. It's obvious that we are not going to agree on anything. And if this really is just a pet project to fix my soul to see how it all pans out, are you satisfied knowing that I can live in this form with shards or do you need more from me?”

“I told you before that my goal is to help mend your soul, to do that you have to feel remorse for your actions and I won’t pretend that I don’t have fully selfish reasons to want you to fix yourself to be honest with you. I don’t care too much for what happens after you do what I need you to. I don’t want deaths to happen, I probably would regret them even if there are a lot of people that I am sure that would love to see me dead that are still part of this fine country. And there are many issues with ruling with fear that I really don’t approve of, but more than anything I want to cut my fate from yours.”

Harrisons eyes glitter, they are not sad or anything but they are shining with magical life. “Our souls are tangled up together. You could call it fate, destiny, chance, soul mates I really don’t care, no matter if I was to choose reincarnation you would follow me right to that life. Because you have infected every part of my life. I plan on giving you one so you can get out of mine. I want my nice peaceful afterlife and until you fix your soul and detangle it from mine that's not possible.” 

“So you want me to change so that you can be free from me?” Tom feels like he is holding all the cards now. “What if I don’t want to change or break this fate between us?” 

Harrison’s eyes flash dangerously before he takes a very deep breath and lets it out loudly from his nose. Tom actually thinks he can feel the other's anger, it's like it is burning part of him on the inside. He has no idea what this could mean. 

Was Harrison… 

No, it wasn’t possible to make a living Horcrux at least that he knew of. 

“I created that form for you to have free will. I won’t force you, I didn’t want to threaten you into something because I really hate people that hold another's life over someone. But if you choose not to help, you choose to go down again that dark path, then I won’t help you when you inevitably die again. I’ll let you root in your madness and Purgatory. I will solve the problem of our joined souls some other way.”

Tom is quiet for a long time. “And if I choose to play along with this endeavor of mending my soul, which is supposed to be worse pain than I experienced creating the Horcruxes, what is in it for me?”

Harry rubs his face. “You have to be the most self-centered Arsehole that I have ever met. How about I don’t try to kill you for all the things that you have put me through, you get to keep your body, and I let you read some of the books I have collected while in my care.” 

Tom frowns deeply, “The way that I see it. Your one of my Horcruxes.” He takes his gamble because there was no way that he would be off again. He didn’t fail very often. “So as long as you live I do, I would be putting myself at a disadvantage to take back the only way I know I can cheat Death at the moment.”

 **You aren’t cheating me.** The entity that has been silent for a while stares at him as if it is looking through him. **You are just pushing off the inevitable, even my previous masters have fallen eventually to me and you will be no different. I have held all the fragments to your soul at one point. And Trust me Riddle if I was able to hate my clients I would say that you are the closest thing to it that I can manage. I have spent far too long dealing with the parts you left in my domain it's very aggravating**

“And you can find other methods, or rip your soul again after you fix it. I don’t really care. If you choose not to help again it doesn’t matter to me. I will find another way to free myself of it and if you die good luck staying out of the burning circles or purgatory. I have been there for your sins and trust me you don’t want to be there for long periods of time.” Harry stands. “Either way you aren’t leaving here for a few months regardless of your decision I can’t see you leaving when you can’t cast even a simple Accio charm. I am going to rest and if you ask nicely perhaps when I am up I will give you a wand to try sorting your magic out.” 

Death smiles smugly before vanishing completely. It's like it knows something that he doesn’t. 

“Oh and Riddle the next time you do try to kill me, I will not hold back magically handicapped or not. I will retaliate.” And Harry again is gone taking his cat entourage with him. Even Loki leaves him there in the chair. 

Yes, Tom decided that he really hated Harry Potter and he was not going to change. He would fix his magic and he would get his last Horcrux just to make sure that it survived and then he would start building everything back. He had hoped to try and sway Harrison to his side, but that task might be incredibly difficult and not worth the effort as the other seemed like he was hard to charm regardless of the tact. But having the Master of death on his side sounded very useful. 

No matter what, no decision could be made until he knew that his magic would be stable. Tom would be in danger from all sides if he couldn’t get it to work again for him properly. None of his goals would be possible either. He doesn’t want to think that all his allies had left him, that he had no resources other than being alive. But then he knows that those that follow him wouldn’t want to again if he can not be powerful enough to demonstrate why they should. 

He tries another Lumos and it fizzles at the end of his fingertips. 

~/*\~

Well, Death warned him that Tom’s moods could be volatile with only half a soul but he did not tell him that he would be so annoying. Perhaps it was looking at him in that form that made it all that more annoying because he could see the smugness, the patronizing eyes that looked into his. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, he wanted to convince himself that he had made the right decision but Tom was such an ungrateful annoying little git that it was near impossible. He had been that way in the locket, selfish and large-headed but it had been a bit more tolerable because at the end of it all Tom would try to make up with him as not to be alone with his own thoughts and demons. 

Perhaps he should have left him in that locket, he hadn’t needed to give the other a body to try and get them to learn about remorse. Hell a few decades in that thing and Tom would probably have been begging to be let out, willing to try. 

Harry hated that his heart was soft. He knew that he couldn’t turn it off no matter what no matter who it was for. He had seen the inside of the locket and had wanted to give Tom that freedom to learn and try to experience life a different way. 

But no, he is hard set in his ways and at the end of it so is Harry. He has his own morals even if they have bent greatly. He sealed the library and study with himself and all the cats inside. He took off his glasses and relaxed in front of the small fireplace summoning a book onwards to himself as he knew that looking at the symbols would be enough to put him back to sleep. 

~/*\~

The boy did leave a book behind and Tom, unable to get the other doors open and feeling very vulnerable and pathetic, settles back into the living room with it. It’s a book on ancient civilizations and Harrison is roughly translating a section on a snake god. He takes the time to read the damn thing and make his own notes on it as there is nothing, not a single better thing to do. 

~/*\~ 

Harry does give him a wand the next day, but it's an old one, and the core of it messes poorly with his own. But still, Tom isn’t going to complain. He feels weary of the other and the threat that might hang in the air between them is enough for him to avoid the other. 

There is a knock on his door and he stops focusing on trying to get things to come to him. 

“Come in.” He is ready to get this over with. 

“Did you do this?” Harrison holds up his notes that he had taken on the book from the living room.

“You know I did, there is no point in asking questions that you already know the answer to.” Tom huffed.

“Well It could have been Morte, he gets bored and sometimes does things for me.” Harrison folds his arms looking incredibly like his age. “But I suppose that I should thank you for translating it for me. It is almost nice of you.” 

“Leaving me food this morning on the counter was equally so.” Tom feels like there is something very awkward in the air as they are being far too polite to each other. 

Harrison rubbed his head with one of his hands. “It's a habit really, I used to be kept much like a house-elf and always end up making too much food. How's the magic coming along.” 

“It's coming.” Tom wants the other to both leave and stay equally. He doesn’t like to think about it, but as the shards are as close to mended as they can be without him fully regretting and showing remorse for his actions, he has been feeling lonely. At least when he was in the locket Harrison was there always. It makes him frustrated more than anything with himself and his new need for companionship. 

Perhaps he should get a snake. 

“Right.” Harrison sighs deeply, “ I thought I would check as there hasn’t been anything shattering or set on fire.”

“Like I would attempt such things when my magic is acting so versatile.” Tom rolls his eyes and turns back to making the ring come to him from the edge of the trunk. It is the first successful attempt that hasn’t ended with him dropping it last second. 

“Oh I don’t mean that you're doing those sorts of spells but my friend when I went to school had issues with his magic and ended up blowing things up regardless of the spell. Our potions professor used to get so annoyed with all the cauldrons he melted.” 

He is smiling and it's a nice one, friendly even as if he is really making an attempt to get along. It's still weird because he had thought that the other surely hated him. 

“I have no idea how some people are allowed to practice around others.” Tom frowns slightly, thinking about how much damage someone like that could do. 

“He stopped getting paired with people after he set his feather on fire with a floating charm.” Harrison is still in the doorway and he seems to catch on that he is being a bit open again and looks like he is again uncomfortable like Tom really could use that against him. 

He shakes his head and the ring is pushed away from himself. 

“Well, I will see you at dinner then, keep practicing.” 

~/*\~

“Why do you keep calling me Riddle,” Tom asks him after a few days of very little interaction. Harry glances up from his plate. 

“It’s your name.” He answers him simply. 

“It's part of it, but you never called me that unless you were upset with me.” Tom folds his hands in front of him almost gracefully. Harry is reminded of a predator that is tucking in their claws for the moment. “What have I done now that warrants it?” 

“I have just settled with calling you Riddle as Tom shows more formality. I thought I knew you well enough and you tried to choke me to death.”

Tom actually winces at that. “Ah well, it will not happen again.” 

“Thank you?” Harry raises an eyebrow. 

Tom shrugs. “I would prefer if you called me Volemort but as you think that name is childish, the least you could do is call me by my first name.” 

“We’re not that close.” 

“We're living together.” Tom narrows his eyes. “You wore my soul shards around your neck for years.” 

“Let me rephrase that, I thought we were closer and I decided that I don’t want to be that close anymore.” Harry whisks his plate towards the sink to be cleaned. Kreacher will take care of it. 

“You considered us friends?” Tom has a very funny look that crosses his face.

“No,” Harry stands up. “But definitely someone that I respected to talk magic with and someone that I have had to adapt my view of yet again.” 

“I hurt you.” Tom nods his head and tilts it as if thinking about it all. His handsome face resembles a near-perfect mask as if he is trying to figure out what that means for them. Or if he is going to try and make an apology for it. 

“I wouldn’t go that far. I would call it I expected to be stabbed in the back and still felt it when it happened. I am not saying I appreciate your attempt to kill me again, but I understand that perhaps pushing your buttons isn’t as fun as it was when you were a locket.”

“Is that why you are being so polite to me, you're scared that I am going to try and kill you again?” 

“Can you promise me that you won’t go on a rampage if I wound that ego of yours?” Harry addresses that with a question of his own.

“I won’t do anything like that again.” Tom makes his voice sound earnest and it is impossible without trust in him to tell if he is being truthful or not. “So perhaps we can go back to respecting each other.” 

“Earn my trust back and I will call you Tom.” Harry agrees. 

~/*\~

Tom has no idea how to win the trust of someone that he has managed to mess the relationship up with both intentionally and unintentionally in such a way. But he has always been good at figuring out how people ticked and puzzling out things that were supposedly unsolvable or fixable. Harrison would just take a lot more work than his usual targets.


	7. Cats and Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tom bond a little over catching a Rat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter yes! 
> 
> \（≧Ｖ≦＊）/

Calling Tom, Riddle ends fairly quickly, just because it just feels more petty than anything. Harry considers them both to be children really. Harry has very strained relationships and friendships when he looks at them. Yes, Hermione he knows has not really wronged him, but he had always felt that even when things were the best they could be with Ron the other was more or less jealous of him and sensitive to the things that were happening with Harry’s life not that Harry can completely blame him. No one signs up at 11 to fight Dark Lords and be dragged on near-death experiences. But even if the people of his house that he wanted to be friends with were quick to turn on him. 

Harry struggled with his own anger, his self-loathing, and the way that it was drilled into him at a young age that he is nothing by his relatives. Even if he has improved greatly with self-confidence there is still a need in him to be acknowledged, loved, and assurance that everything he is doing is worth it. He knows that he isn’t the best socializer or letting others know how he is feeling. He wishes he could blame the anger in him from the soul shard nestled into him, but he doubts that it really is doing anything but sitting there. 

Tom is childish in his own ways. He seeks Harry to understand that he is 'right' about everything, he is very demanding, impatient, and impossible to read if he shuts down. He is just better at hiding the parts of him that probably wouldn’t be acceptable to society, though Harry has seen behind that mask so perhaps Tom doesn’t even try to hide how angry he gets over the smallest things. 

They both might have been socially stunted in their own ways. Tom can’t curse Harry into compliance with him, nor can he charm him. And Harry can not help but bother the other so that he doesn't just sit there in silence. Harry hates being bored and standing still, it's why he does all the housework and only uses Kreacher for errands. 

They are not friends by any means, but at least they are more civil to each other. Tom is respectful of Harry’s space and Harry in turn gives him space. They eat together and spend time in the same room without talking necessarily to each other. Harry has made room in the library so that Tom can have a bit of office space, and access to the lab downstairs. 

There are things that he has locked in his own room just because it’s his research and he is not interested in sharing how to raise the dead or some of his more otherworldly practices. Harry has branched out of normal spell work to include protections against things that even Luna would have a hard time believing in. Except Death has told him they exist and well Harry is not someone to argue with Death about what does and does not exist. 

It is like they are sharing space, and not admitting that it is something that they both need as stupid as that is. Harry has no real people to talk to and Tom is not planning on taking a step out of the front door until he is back in tune with his magic. So that leaves them with only each other as Harry has no interest in leaving the house alone with Tom in it. 

There are things that he could get into that Harry rather than he didn’t. Their same space sharing leads to conversations. Some are lighter in nature but Tom usually draws it into something that Harry is not sure that he wants to talk about. No, Harry doesn’t want to engage Tom in his ideas about politics because they are just going to agree to disagree, or rather Tom would make whatever it was into a draw.

Tom is very good at twisting his words into making it sound like everyone was evil in their own way and selfish. Which is a very negative approach to life, but one that he can understand. Tom believed deeply in the old ways and wanted nothing to do with Muggles. Muggles had wronged them both and Harry knows that protection from the nonmagical would is necessary, he just doesn’t believe in the extremes that Tom wants to get into. 

Least Tom didn’t want to kill all Muggles or rule over them… He still found them inferior which was a conversation that Harry was tired of arguing about within the first month of Tom’s rebirth. He still wanted to get back to his roots of controlling things and planned on doing it this time at least in a less blood-soaked manner. That doesn’t mean that murder is off the table. 

Tom is still pissed to have learned that Malfoy had turned and left his diary in the cauldron of an 11-year-old girl to settle such a stupid grudge. Harry had only told him about it because he kept pestering him on why he looked like he was 16 again and had to finish going through puberty. Harry could not help that the only human version of Voldemort that he could picture was the one from the chamber of secrets. It was ingrained in there from the murder attempt. Honestly besides the graveyard its namably most scary possible death prospect for him. It was probably another reason that he had so many Goblin made weapons on him. They were pretty useful for the off chance he was disarmed. 

At the end of everything, Tom was who he was and Harry didn’t think there was any way to really do anything about it. He can still hold onto the hope that the other will be able to figure out remorse and regret, that there are ways to fix things he doesn’t like without the slaughter of innocent people. He was not out to turn Tom good, something that Tom is insistent that Harry is. Harry just wanted to hold him back from killing other people indiscriminately because they did not get along with him. Though perhaps he really shouldn’t care too much about that if his soul gets untangled. It’s not exactly his concern if Tom does those sorts of things, he brought Tom back a lot saner then he would have been when he inevitably came back some other way and there was really nothing to that prophecy anyway. In a way, it had already been fulfilled. 

Harry holds Voldie who keeps trying to get out of the tub. Hairless cats had the unique need to be bathed once a week. They just got too much oil on their skin that turned them into grease balls otherwise. There had been grease stains that had ruined a few bedsheets for that. Harry could order the wrinkly thing still but he still feels a little bad for commanding his cats. His cats are a testament to bringing something back from the grave. He had never been fond of the animals besides Hedwig till he had made Moon Moon and the thing would follow him everywhere and seek out his attention.

Yes, Harry was pretty lonely all things considered. Before he had friends that he spent his time with, Acquaintances that he had in classes, and generally was around people. It was not so anymore the only person close enough to be a friend was Quirrell and well they wouldn’t be as close if he knew Harry took age potions to look around his age. It would make the obvious crush that the other had on him very awkward indeed. Not that Harry was really 13 he was more of just trapped in the physical body of one. 

Voldie was settling into the warmer water.

“Good boy.” Harry sighed, at last, the other had accepted his fate. Unlike some cats that were now playing with the tap and scaring each other with the water. 

Another mess to clean up.

He likes Voldie the best because unlike the others he is a cuddler as he has no fur and gets cold. Sure out of all of them he is probably the most destructive as he likes to chew on everything and he also hates the other cats, but it only sort of makes it all that more endearing that Voldie wants to be scratched and tucked into something warm. It’s weird but Harry likes making him clothes. It gave him something to do and knitting is sort of relaxing. The cat's clinginess also makes him feel like he was wanted which is almost sort of a depressing thought.

He really needs to get out more...

Tom finds him there drying off the wrinkled mess and Voldie starts making noise to let Harry know that he is not happy that Tom is getting closer to him. Voldie doesn’t like Tom and Harry has a feeling that the feeling is mutual. 

“Are you seriously going to dress it in that?” Tom looks at the mess that is in the bathroom and then at the fuzzy Gryffindor sweater that Harry has picked out. He is a fan of it because it has cute little snitches that enchanted to move along the sleeves. It provides hours of entertainment watching Voldie react to each movement with playfulness. 

“I am.” Harry tucks the cat's arms into the sweater. “He needs the warmth.”

“It's bad enough that all your interior design resembles Gryffindor, but you're going to subject him to that as well.” Tom motions a little around himself at the red bath towels and curtain to the shower. His arms after go back to being folded. It might be humor in his tone as there was no way that he would wear anything with golden snitches on it and he acknowledges that the cat for some reason is named after him. 

“And you care because?” Harry raised an eyebrow. Finishing up and letting Voldie go, he took a few testing steps before making a move to chase off Garfield from his place behind the toilet. Moon Moon lounges in the sink and didn’t do much more than bat his tail. 

“I don't and I won’t be here long enough to explain why the house needs a new color pallet.” He seems like he has thought some time about redoing some of the rooms. Harry has told Tom he could do whatever he wanted with his, and he had been stuck helping to transfigure things. 

“I like it.” Harry shrugs, because well it was just how he wanted it a blend of Hogwarts and a home that he never had. 

“And you lack taste.” Tom sniffed reminding him a little of Draco. 

“Must be why I have you for a roommate.” Harry smiles nicely at him and gets off his place on the floor. 

Tom sighs. “If anything I only add something to the house.” 

Harry bites back another playful insult because that would be low hanging fruit. “Is there a reason that you are disrupting bath time?”

“Loki has decided to rip apart my curtains.” Tom holds his arms tightly. 

“And?” Harry stands and the other doesn’t move out of his relative personal space. 

“And I still can’t do the magic required to fix them.” Tom looks very disgusted with the idea. He has been having more problems with his magic than Harry had anticipated. He almost feels bad for the other because for someone that had once been so skilled in it to struggle to do first-year spells was just sort of sad.

“Ask Kreacher. I am sure that he can mend them for you.” Harry wants Tom to stop bothering him with every little thing that bothers him. It's not always complaining, but Harry doesn’t particularly like to be asked or rather demand to do things for the other. 

“That elf only listens to you like the many furballs.” Tom grinds out because if there is one thing that Harry has realized is the other did not like to ask for help. He also had resentment towards the elf that had managed to help get his soul from the cave hideout. It had and would have been the safest place for it. Many lesser people would have fallen victim to it. 

Tom didn’t want to be helped with what should have been simple and Harry just for the most part let him be, even if they were on better terms with each other. Tom can understand Harry’s sense of humor is to poke fun and Tom is mean spirited with his humor that is much darker and prone to border offensive. 

“Loki doesn't listen to anyone, and she is the second most destructive after Voldie.” Harry smiled pleased with the look on the other's face. 

“I am aware.” Tom frowns deeper at the mere mention of the name Voldie. 

“If I fix the curtains then you will help me with some errands.” 

“You have an elf, why not just send it?”

“Because I want to get out of the house, and certainly you don’t want to sit in here forever.” 

The former Dark Lord’s face is not readable. “And you think that it is a good idea to let me out of your house? I would think that you would want to keep me tucked away from anywhere I could cause another harm.” 

“I don’t lock you in here, nor did I say you couldn’t leave whenever you wanted to.” Harry defends. “And well-currently your more or less declawed. It’s not intentional mind you, but I am starting to think that there might be something wrong with your core.”

“Oh really, you don’t say.” Tom shakes his head, “clearly you have discovered something that none before you could ever have dreamed up.” 

“In my defense, it was my first human that I was trying to attach magic to, it was theoretical, and as Magic capability is based on many things including the soul, wand, and health of a Wizard there could be a lot of factors here.

Tom looks like something has just occurred to him. “My wand, I assumed that it was destroyed, but if it isn’t perhaps it would help greatly.”

Harry had given the other range to try the other wands that he had in his possession, not many really meshed well with him. But the current Yew and dragon heartstring wand was the best fit. With it, Tom had been able to do a few very basic spells, including a stinging hex that he would send at Harry every once and awhile. It hardly hurt because there wasn’t enough behind it to, even though Harry was more than aware that the intent was there. 

“I don’t have it nor know where it could be.” Harry brushes past the other and heads toward the kitchen, Tom in toe and Voldie streaking underfoot and towards his food dish. “But I suppose that I do know that someone that might. I need to catch them anyway and turn them in. I have a feeling that right about now, he will be making an appearance at the shrieking shack.”

“Is this the errand?” Tom raises an eyebrow watching Harry take out the tuna from the fridge giving each bowel a small treat.

“Yes, you can get your want back and terrify him. It would be such a wonderful payback before hopefully, the dementors get a hold of him. Death assured me that it is the worst way to die.” Harry places the treat back into the fridge and rinses the spoon and his hands. 

Tom smiles slightly at this clearly interested. “The golden hero has a taste for murder.” 

“No, just swift justice. I am not planning on doing anything but scaring him myself and maybe a few hexes. Even if I want to strangle him for Ratting literally my parents out to you, I won’t kill him.” He dries his hands before heading back towards the living room that would have his shoes.

“Pettigrew.” Riddle now understands the animosity. “I am amazed you show such hate for him when I am the one that killed them.”

“Here's the thing.” Harry slipped on his shoes. “Trust me I have a dislike for you for killing them, but I also know that they were fighting against you. And even if I loath to admit it they were your enemy and it makes sense for you to want to kill them. But Pettigrew was a coward, evil little shit. He took my parents' trust and used that against them. He betrayed them and trust me if there is one kind of sin I will not forgive it is betrayal.” 

He knows that his eyes show how much he hates the thought of it. Not that Tom really has betrayed him as Harry has not trusted him close enough to burn him as much as the other people that had been in his life. 

“Noted.” Tom is still smiling, obviously liking this side of him. “Since he most likely knows where my wand is as you put it. I would like to get that from him before he has his soul sucked out. Of all my followers he was one of the most disgusting.” 

And boom like that Harry has the Dark Lord involved with wanting to mess with Pettigrew and accompany him on a mission. 

Harry snorts a little at that. “He is pretending to be a pet rat and cuddling up to children if that makes you have an even better picture of why I hate him more than you.” 

That makes Tom frown darkly. 

“I have told you that I hate you before.” Harry tilts his head. 

“No that… The idea of it disgusts me.” Tom holds his gray sweater a little tighter, his fingers are trembling with anger and his eyes burn that red tint that they got when he was beyond furious about something.

“You know that you have killed children before and that the werewolves that were under your employ liked to eat them.” Harry doesn’t know why the other is so upset. 

“That's different, they died by my hand with the exceptions of a few of the orphans mercifully. There is no need to torture children, and Greyback was the only one that engaged in such behavior. If I don’t like someone I kill them, I have broken people that have really done something to me and tortured them, but I never did that. Nor would I have wanted my followers to engage in something like that.”

The way that he says it… makes Harry wonder if there are other things lurking under the surface of Tom’s mask. 

“Are you sure that he needs to be alive?” Tom now seems to have made it out of his mood and is back to wanting to hurt the rat. 

“Yes, I need his memories for freeing my Godfather. Out of the few people that I still like from my old life Sirius is one of them and to have justice and his freedom I need Pettigrew relatively unharmed and brought into Ministry custody.”

Tom has a rather ugly look on his face that doesn’t match his rather nicer face. “Fine, a few slicing hexes and such can be easily fixed.” 

“I suppose that you could try one or two.” Harry is fine channeling Tom’s more viscous side to something that is a bit productive and or a person that deserves it. He summons his cloak to him and folds it nicely over his arm and his bag that will have most of the things that he needs. 

He holds out his hand to Tom that takes it, and there is a weird calm that settles over the others more annoyed features. Harry can feel the burning of his hand and the almost pleasant sensation that he used to feel when there were soul shards nearby and the locket was reacting. It's an odd sensation but Harry still takes them both instantly to the edge of the forbidden forest. 

He lets go quickly after that and Tom takes a step away from him. 

~/*\~

“We’re close to Hogwarts,” Tom notes that Harry is allowed to pass the wards. The boy next to him has gifts that are beyond what most would be able to accomplish.

“I haven’t been here since I was five.” Harry smiles. “In my past life I considered it to be home, sorta miss the place.”

“I can tell by your decor choices.” Tom rolls his eyes, though he can feel the same hum of excitement to be back on the grounds. He had not been in so long. It had been his only home, his true one. He had known every nook and passage, all if it felt like it belonged to him. He had made a name and place for himself within the walls.

“I thought about returning here, as a student. It would have been fun to let the hat sort me into Slytherin as it had originally wanted to.” Harry seemed just too pleased to be thinking too hard in what he was saying. That small casual smile that even lights up his eyes is there. It is a rare sight.

“It wanted to place me in Ravenclaw for a few seconds before it picked Slytherin,” Tom adds onto it just so that perhaps Harry will continue. He likes knowing more about the vessel that has part of his soul. Even if he was ever to say anything like that Harry would go on defense mode. He was the safest place for the sliver of his soul. A person that could not die and as long as Harry could not die and didn’t tire of life Tom wouldn’t die either. 

“I asked it to place me in Gryffindor because Malfoy was such a smug brat that I didn’t want to be placed with him. It might have been what led to me being brought up for the slaughter.” Harry sounds a bit saddened by it. That smile is strained and he can see the way his eyes dull again. 

“Yet you have decorated in golds and reds.”

“Because Hogwarts even with how lonely it could be was like my home. I never can fully regret all the things that happened because I have many positive memories with friends within the walls. And anything was better than my Aunt and Uncle's house.”

“The Muggles that locked you in that cupboard.” Tom scowls.

Harry blinks at him as if he had never shown him the space under the stairs like Tom was slightly crazy for remembering their first talk about Muggles. Tom still felt like the other had been preachy at him but he had accepted that perhaps Harry had just wanted to talk a bit about the horrible world that he had grown up in. 

“Yes.” The boy recovers and then turns his back on him and starts walking in the direction of the castle grounds. “This is going to be a bit weird but it's safest if you are closer to me.”

Harry is unfolding the cloak and the colorful thing now shows that it is the legendary object of Death’s cloak as now Harry is nearly completely invisible. He is holding up the end of the cloak and Tom realizes that he wants him under the thing as well. Suddenly being smaller is a bit useful. It gives him a chance again to be close to the soul shard that is in Harry, he feels calmer when he is near the other, and he knows that he is better in control of himself the more of the original soul that is with him. 

It doesn’t mean that he exactly likes the other as that would be a strong word, but he no longer wants to kill the other nearly as often. Harry’s weak heart for others aside, he is rather capable. They head through the path forced to be close and move slowly as there is not much room under the thing, even with the both of them not being all that tall. Tom takes at least the superiority of being taller. He holds the thing up over them as Harry’s attempts are rather pathetic. 

They pass students on their way to classes and Harry pauses when he sees a redhead, his breathing becomes sharp and Tom watches the girl with freckles pulling along a blond. Harry is gripping at his robe and takes in a couple of deep breaths. Because they are so close together, Tom can feel the prickle of anger, sorrow, and something foreign to him. He decides to make it known that they are on a mission and shoves Harry more towards their destination. 

Harry regains himself after nearly falling. He makes his way past a black dog that is hiding among the brush and casts a tracking spell softly. Tom watches the signatures of life spread around them and Harry then smiles broadly. 

“He is still in Hagrid’s hut. Good.” Harry starts moving again and Tom sticks close as there are dementors that he can see hunting at the edge of the grounds. They make their way easily into the hut and Harry picks up the small cage that is on the barrels stunning the man that was hiding inside of it and they make their way past the dog again. 

Harry reaches out and gives it one quick stroke that makes the dog look around it and start to sniff the air. 

“We're not picking up more animal’s” Tom hisses into his ear.

Which causes Harry to laugh more than what Tom would have thought possible for something that wasn’t that funny to begin with. 

Harry moves swiftly through the forest and they go in deep. Tom isn’t scared even without capable magic. He can handle himself of that he is sure. It is just unusual how calm Harry is in his movements, taking them so far out from where anyone would hear anything. He had a feeling that Harry didn’t want to cast any silencing charms and it makes the darker part of him purr with the idea of actually getting to practice the things that he wants to. He wants to see if he can funnel any of the raw magic he knows he is capable of into something that is more explosive than a summoning or repairing charm. 

Harry releases the rat onto the ground and reveals him for what he really truly is. Pettigrew is already cowering long before Harry takes the cloak off of himself. 

“Well, Hello there Peter.” He greets pleasantly and Tom smiles at how calm the other sounds, how there are sprinkles of anger flowing through their bond. He takes off the cloak and folds it in his arm drawing his own wand wanting to see how this played out. 

“James?” Pettigrew guesses wrong and Harry kicks him hard in the ribs for it. 

“No my father would be dead along with my mother because of you.”

“It wasn’t me, it was Sirius, he was the secret keeper.” The man was already sitting up and Tom just hit the other with a stinging hex, putting all that he could behind it. There was just a really large welt that formed on the man’s cheek. Harry tilted his head and looked back at him. His eyes quickly moved back to where they should be. One should never look away from their opponent, even if they seemed downed or like they weren’t capable of anything. 

“Don’t lie to me. I know that they switched because Sirius knew he was the obvious choice. He put his faith into you and you sold him out to the Dark Lord.” Harry hit the man with a very powerful stinging hex that sent a shiver through the dirty man. 

“I would never, they were my friends.” Peter started to cry like the pathetic creature that he really was. “You must believe me Harry.”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Harry spat.

And Tom feels something stir in him because he is allowed to call Harrison, Harry. It came with all the civil time that they spent together talking politics and of magic. He is sure that this is evidence that the other trusts and likes him. Perhaps not enough to be taken to all of Tom’s ideas but certainly there was the possibility of having Harrison at his side. 

“Please I didn’t.” 

“I really hate liars.” Harry shakes his head. “Tom would you like to confirm that we know that he is lying.” 

“Certainly Harry,” Tom says it as sweetly possible, making Harry go a bit red in the face and his eyes narrow. It's a rather enjoyable expression. “Wormtail, I count myself disappointed that you didn’t look for me, but I heard that you might have something of mine.” 

Tom plays with his current wand turning it over in his hands in a move that was very becoming back in the days that he was at the height of his power. Wormtail's eyes bulged a little out of his skull as his eyes dart between the two. 

“My Lord?” He asks softly before dropping to his knees in even more of a pathetic display of begging. He looks like he would kiss his robes if he was close enough and he shares a look with Harry and the other looks just as annoyed by it as Tom felt. 

“Stop this display Wormtail the only reason that you are alive is because you might have something that is precious to me, and trust me that if it is not secure and intact. I will make sure that you suffer up until the time that I mercifully bring your life to an end.” 

Tom hasn’t felt power like this in a long time and it makes him feel better than he has felt in months, however, Harry actually snorts at him and it cuts a little of the wind out of his sails. He glares at the other.

“You and your speeches.” He snorts again. 

“It is not a speech it promises.” Tom girts out.

“Yes of course Mr. Dark Lord, please continue.” 

“I want my wand Wormtail.” Tom feels like now he just wants this over with. 

“It's safe, my lord. I know exactly where it is.” The man tries to wiggle his way out of the trap. 

“That's good. Now tell me where it is.”

“I will take you there if you promise not to kill me, my Lord.” The man again begs but already is trying to make an escape out of this. 

Tom hits him with another stinging hex and his is not nearly as effective as Harry’s and he hits the other with a slicing curse. It causes a shallow wound that is like a paper cut. He feels like he is slightly embarrassing himself at this point.

“It’s definitely your core.” Harry hits Pettigrew with the power the spell should have held. It cut open his arm deeply. 

The man sobs holding the wound before Harry fixes it as good as new again. 

Tom scowls at him. He doesn't need to be reminded. 

“How about this.” Harry couches down. “You will tell me where I can find Tom’s wand and after we retrieve it. I’ll turn you into the ministry for your crimes, its life that you don’t deserve.” 

Pettigrew opens his mouth.

“And if you try to open your mouth here and talk your way out of it. I’ll let Tom practice the Killing curse on you and since there's limited magic in him currently I am sure that it would make for an enjoyable experiment.”

Yes, Harry really does have a dark side that can not be all acted. It's just in the way that his eyes burn intensely and the way that he can feel along the bond those intense feelings. Harry looks like a preditor of his own making. It's like he is seeing a part that doesn't exactly fit the person that he has known and that interests him greatly. 

“If they fail to kill him, I can always use more Muggle methods,” Tom adds on smoothly. “I would like to try out some of your goblin made weapons.” 

“I could always just give him to my cats.” Harry shrugs. 

“It would give Loki indigestion.” Tom disagrees automatically as he doesn’t know how it would be for a cat to eat a person that's bound in their animagus form. It would be one hell of an experiment but he is not risking Harry being upset about the loss of one of his precious cats. The aftermath would not be worth the headache. 

“I knew you liked her from the second I saw her sleeping on your bed.”

“No, I just rather not see her throw up rat bits considering she seems to have taken to following me around.

“Whatever you say, Tom.” Harry shakes his head smiling largely. 

~/*\~

They did get Tom’s wand back from near the monument to Harry's old home in Godric's Hollow. He stood there at the gate and gripped the wood tightly. The place was gone and Tom can clearly see what happened when such a curse rebounded. How it would have taken out of even passers-by. There is nothing really left of the home, just wreckage that shows the broken life that Harry would lead from this place rather well. He watches as the clouds roll in and the clouds have set in Harry's demeanor. He is no longer happy about their catch of Pettigrew he is more interested in looking a place that could have been home. If it was not because of him... 

“I saw them die, the second time around,” Harry says softly almost so softly that Tom is not sure that he is meant to hear it. 

He thinks about saying that he is sorry, but that would be insincere and he knows that Harry probably just wants to be left alone for a little while and Tom lets him have the moment. Taking himself and the rat away from the sight. There are flurries that are starting to fall and Tom would rather brace himself up against one of the buildings that is intact for warmth. 

He watches Harry seem to pay his respects and because he is far enough away he doesn’t have to feel what the other is feeling. He wouldn’t want to in this sort of situation. He watches as Harry says something softly and he notices that there is some dark shadowy figure near him. Death was comforting perhaps Harry from the blowback. 

It's about an hour before Harry has returned to his side, his face is slightly red from more than just the cold Tom is sure. He holds out his hand first to the other, in a move that he is not exactly sure the reasoning behind it is. Perhaps he can slightly feel for the other, not much but he can slightly understand what the other must feel. 

Harry’s hand is warm in his and there is a heaviness that shifts between them. 

“I am going to drop you off at home.” Harry sighs softly. “I need to make a stop at the ministry.”

“It can wait,” Tom tells him. He might not be able to feel what Harry is, or really bad about what has happened between them. But he has enough experience with observing others to make himself seem as caring as he can be. “He won’t go anywhere if you lock him in the basement till tomorrow. You will need your wits about you if you're planning to use this to free your Godfather and make a debut in the Wizarding World.”

“True enough.” Harry huffs and realizes that they are still joined and takes him quickly to Grimmauld place and drops his hand quickly retreating away from Tom and leaving him there with the rat. Loki mews loudly and Tom shakes his head. 

"You can't have this one." He tells her seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited for the next chapter and Harry's trip to the Ministry and how it all reaches quite the head for our favorite Headmaster.
> 
> These are dangerous times, especially where I am. So please be safe, be smart, and I will see you soon.


	8. The Boy Who Lived and One that Lost Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets what he wants out of his trip to the Ministry, Tom gets papers that make him question where and how to go on from where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ヾ(● ∇ ●)ﾉ And were Back.

The downtown is bustling with people, they are for the most part Muggles that are rushing to work. Some are weaving between crosswalks and others are scurrying in and out of coffee shops getting what they need for starting the day as quickly as they can. The city is loud and roars with biological life and that of the mechanical. Trains can be heard whistling and the horns of trucks are all but drowned out by the amount of chatter. He takes it all in the sights and the sounds, he has missed being out and about. It would be nice just to sit for a bit in one of the coffee shops or spend some time exploring again. He didn’t necessarily want to go camping but seeing the world would be nice. A beach somewhere, warmer would have been nice right about now. Spring could not make up its mind if it wanted to snow and be bitterly cold or if it wanted to be warm and uncomfortably so. 

He passes a family making their way across the street no doubt to get some photos in front of the buses that were parked on that side. He smiles from his place under the robe. If Tom was there he would have commented on how stupid that he looked at the moment. 

It must have been sitting on this for 12 hours that has returned part of his enthusiasm about the whole thing. Well, that and his confidence in order to get this all to work is way higher than it had been. He would never admit that Tom might have been right about something it would have just made that ego larger than it already was and the last thing that Harry wanted to deal with was a smug Tom. But waiting had been a good idea as he was in a defiant better mindset. It makes him not even feel bad about messing with a few of Peter’s memories. He couldn’t have anyone knowing about Tom after all. 

He could smile again, which felt like a high order all things considered. Death had been pretty good to him with explaining that his family members were in the realm of the remembered and that they would not blame him for doing what had to be done. Harry is not exactly sure about that. It's easier to just focus on the living than getting hung up on people's expectations or what the dead was thinking of him. He is sure that his fate and everything has already been warped beyond belief. It makes liking Tom just a little bit more a bearable thought if he is not worrying about what his parents would say, Sirius, or really anyone else he cared for, for that matter. 

So with this all in mind he steps into the Ministry and takes off his cloak a few people turn to look at him as he makes his stroll up to the main desk. 

“Good Morning.” Harry greets cheerily, “I was hoping that you could help me talk to someone high up in law enforcement.” 

The Witch at the desk looks up at him. “Name?” She asks.

“Harry Potter.” He smiles greatly as her eyes widen. 

~/*\~

It's one of those days. The sun is up and blanketed under a thick layer of clouds, which makes it far colder than the date would suggest that it should be. There is nothing too great about the breakfast feast and he sets out to do all of his duties as Headmaster. He has a meeting at 4 with staff and has to make sure to gather all the bullet points that he wishes to address. It is just a perfectly normal morning until an owl frantically finds him in his office, he knows Fudge's owl anywhere as the man sends him mail frequently for advice and as well to accuse him of things. He sighs expecting another long-winded complaining letter, only to find a brief quickly written sentence.

``` Harry Potter has shown up at the Ministry and wishes to talk. Meet us in my office.```

He doesn’t think that he has ever floo traveled so fast in his life. He appears at the Ministry in a matter of minutes and heads straight to the head office. He is greeted with a boy that has his hair slicked down, glasses and is wearing what would have been a very popular look for teenagers a few decades ago. He looks professional in a way if one could ignore the little bit of cat hair that is at the ends of his robes. He is definitely a near replica of James if his hair was not being controlled, and if James had bright green eyes that remind him of the killing curse or floo powder. 

His eyes bore into his blue and there is no trace of friendliness or childish mannerisms. This is someone that has been hardened by life and the chill to them reminds him of an orphan that he had met many years ago. There is that posture and everything. 

“I would like to get this over with.” Harry sighs. “I already told the Minister here that I didn’t want to involve 3rd parties but he thinks that somehow you have a claim over me.” 

“I was made your magical guardian.” Albus explains why he would have been contacted and the boy looks like he is holding back a snort. 

“Oh and that gives you a claim, where were you then when I was kidnapped or when my relatives abused me?” The boy tilted his head and it made his eye twitch. “The way that I see it no one has the right to tell me how I will live or should live.”

That was not the response that he was even remotely thinking that the other would give, not in the slightest. But it almost seems fitting in that strange way. If Harry was abused over his time away from the Magical World it may have had the opposite effect that one could have hoped for as it had not humbled, but only put a layer of resentment inside of him. 

“I was unaware that anything was happening within the home, had I been aware I would have stepped in sooner.” He does his best to pacify the child, because even if the other has been through a lot that is what he is. A child. 

“I’m sure.” Harry rolled his eyes. “It's not like you could have checked or anything. You put me with people that hated magical people and thought that it would all be great. But we’re not here to talk about your or your school’s shortcomings. We’re here to get my real guardian free from his wrongful imprisonment.”

Albus couldn’t even touch on what the other thought about Hogwarts as Fudge being the usual incompetent man that he was, decided to focus solely on the idea that Harry’s Godfather had been imprisoned. It was something that Albus had not thought too hard on. After all, Sirius was a Black, their family was known to have streaks of madness and the desire for power. 

“Now wait here, the only guardian that you have is Sirius Black, and he is a mass murderer.” Fudge starts. 

“Yes and that case was handled by your brilliant deductive skills, and botched beyond belief. You threw him away without a trial and if you managed to ask him you might have noted that Sirius was going after the real secret keeper that decided that they were going to Rat out literally my family to Voldemort. But don’t worry I have tracked down Pettigrew for you.” Harry folds his hands in front of him as if he is explaining to children what is happening in the real world. 

Albus can not help but be amazed by the young man in front of him. Awed and concerned for sure. If what he was claiming was true then that would explain Sirius’s reaction when he was just laughing and crying while being arrested. He is wise beyond his years to be able to track down someone that is very slippery to have gotten away from all of the Ministry and not showing up in any sightings after his disappearance. This is not the child that he would have hoped to mold into the perfect Savior of the Wizarding World. He was too intelligent and it shows by the way that his green eyes are locked onto him as he tries to peer into that head of his. His mind is not readable. Very well defended and he knows that it would take a long time to look past them. 

“I have the evidence with me.” Harry holds up an enchanted pet carrier. He sets it right on top of the desk and takes out a stunned rat that is missing a toe. He then casts brilliantly a revealing spell and there is a man there and it is unmistakably Peter. “You will note that Voldemort has branded him.” 

Albus rolls up the man’s sleeve to show the Dark Mark that is slightly raised and red. It confirms that there is a stirring of Voldemort in the world. It was very concerning as it confirmed Severus’s suspicions. However, there was no evidence that Quirrell was involved in anything of the dark. Even if his friend Harrison Morte did have a resemblance to James that others noticed and seemed like something that was slightly off. 

“Don’t say his name…” Fudge stutters out rather stupidly as he is forced to face with his failure from 13 years ago. Albus also can not help but look at it with slight pain in his chest for the mess that could have been avoided with proper trials. He should have fought harder for it. 

“Voldemort is a stupid name, that is like a gimmicky Christmas card that everyone gets stuck on the inside wording Happy Holidays, Yule, Great Tidings, you get the idea they all equate to the same stupid thing, is not original. Call him what he is and stop being scared of it. He probably likes the fact that he has sparked so much of it into you.” 

Harry speaks it in the present tense so he also is aware that Tom Riddle was still probably alive planning something, but with a calmness and connectedness that it seems he is fine with mocking the person that he will eventually have to kill. 

“Be that as it may, there was a reason for it when he was in power.” Fudge starts with his usual speeches about formalities and other things that are far too useful for politicians. However, Harry doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. He certainly is brave to talk to the other the way that he does. 

“Yes, yes he put traces on it.” Harry waves it away. “He wanted to know who was brave enough to stand up to him. He thought he was invincible I am sure. And yet he fulfilled his own prophecy by trying to kill an infant and was blasted to kingdom come. His followers scattered like the pathetic cowards they are and now are on the bandwagon that I should be the next Dark Lord. Pettegrew can tell you all about that.”

Said man is still sound asleep, under something powerful indeed. Fudge looks nervous by the idea. And Dumbledore does consider this as a possible outcome if Harry were to defeat Voldemort. 

“Not that I want to be. I just want to be left alone. I have better things to do.” Harry smiles very largely at this. “Annoying my roommate, feeding my cats, and studying protective magic is a lot better than playing around with people that kidnap you to figure out what happened to their old boss.” 

And with that Harry smiled. “Give my regards to Sirius would you, and make a nice public apology. I have to make sure that my house is still standing.” 

He casts a smoke-like charm that makes purples and blues expand, cloaking him and he is gone before they can force any other words out of him. Harry Potter the boy that was missing, becomes yet again an elusive creature that just appears and disappears whenever he wishes it. He left them with his written testament and Pettigrew, no address or way to contact with an owl. 

The mess of setting up a trial and such for Pettigrew and Black becomes the only way to possibly find the young teenager again. The media stir that this is going to kick up is going to be just as detrimental as the one prior. He wished that he had long enough to attempt a trace on him, as a tracking spell would have come in handy if the world's savior only wanted to spend time living a normal life, something that he could not afford should he be needed to vanquish the Dark Lord again. 

He has every plan for the next time he sees the other hopefully at the sentencing that he will have the opportunity. 

~/*\~

Tom sits on the leather sofa in the living room. Loki has taken the open seat next to him and even though he doesn’t particularly like the thing he gives her a few strokes as he reads absentmindedly the book that is balanced in his lap. He is looking into the merit that the idea of the soul contains the essence of magic. He might have found some of his latest readings on Harry’s side of the office, but if he really didn’t want him digging into things on that side of the room he would have set up decent wards. Because they were unguarded Tom felt nothing about helping himself to the knowledge within and formulating himself with the things that Harry knows.

Loki has no soul, yet she has a magical signature, he can feel it even if he can not do the proper checks with a wand to confirm it. 

He jumps a little as the door opens suddenly and shuts. 

“I see my home is still standing.” Harry sheds his cloak and Tom gives him a quick glare before returning to the paragraph that he was on from the top as he can not remember where he was within it. 

Harry plops himself hard next to him, so much so that the cat lifts a little with his effort to sit down. “I ran into Dumbles while at the Ministry.”

Tom sighs knowing that he is not going to get anything done while the other wants to have conversations he has learned well enough by now. He shuts the book and places it down onto the coffee table. “And what did he want?”

“Didn’t stick around long enough to really ask, but I would assume it would be something like join the light side and attend my magical school so I can keep an eye on you and manipulate you.” 

“Ah his usual tact.” Tom lets out a bit of breath out of his nose to hide the way that he might have laughed at that. Harry is leaning back against the sofa stretching, he is very close, and noticing this, Tom scoots just a little away from him. “And everything went well with turning Pettigrew over?”

“I think they will be looking into freeing Sirius tonight, and if they don’t my letter to the papers will probably do some nice damage to them. I hope that you don’t mind me accusing your people for my disappearance.” 

“Of course blame me and tarnish what is left of my reputation.” Tom huffs folding his arms as another way to avoid the other that is in his space more so than before. Harry has such a large grin that it sends a weird feeling though him. He doesn’t think that he has ever seen the other giving off such a smile, not even when tormenting Voldie with affection that the grumpy cat is not fond of. 

“I can’t tarnish it any worse than what you have made it already.” Harry relaxes completely, the smile is still on his face. He seems to have remembered something though and his face gets serious for a second. “I did take a detour while I was leaving the Ministry.”

He pulls out of his robe something that has been shrunk and then hands it over once he has undone the enchantment. Tom takes the papers from him and recognizes them instantly. They are paperwork for birth certificates and other needed information should he want to exist outside of his old life under an allis. Tomas Gaunt was printed on one of the pages. 

“I thought that it would be believable that you were your own bastard child, but you can easily discard the first sheet if you wish and create your own.” Harry shrugs and shifts slightly. Tom knows that he is uncomfortable and wants to at least hear something from him. He likes watching the other squirm as there is never a real good way to get to Harry. Well, without getting into his space. 

“I would have gone with Marvolo.” 

He thumbs through them, knowing that to obtain them Harry would have had to go through a lot of security and could be sent to Azkaban for over a year for the violation of stealing them. Not that Harry already probably wouldn’t have had at least a life sentence for bringing him back to life and practicing what most would consider the dark arts and things that were unnatural. In the time that Tom has known Harry, he has been more useful than any of his followers combined. He doesn’t know if the kindness the other shows him is to manipulate him subtly or if the other really is that caring. He is sure that it is a weakness regardless, Harry’s heart is soft for him. Not that he can see himself betraying the Master of Death but he is sure that it has its uses. 

Harry makes a face. “I really dislike that name.”

“It has better magical roots than Tomas.” Tom easily points out to him. 

Harry doesn’t look very happy with that though. “I don’t think Marvolo is something that would have been considered, but then again the Guant's did like to recycle the name.” 

“And Voldemort wouldn’t have wanted to name his son anything less than something magical.” Tom answers swiftly. “I dislike the name, Tom.” 

He would never want a child to begin with, but if it ever happened no matter how unlikely it was he wouldn’t give them anything that sounded like a Muggle name. He hates his own mother for giving him such a name as Tom at least Harry had the decency to try and give him the full version of it. It was such a common name of his time and he is sure that its popularity had not changed. 

“You mean if you had any children. I can’t see the snake face that I had to fight ever having any and if he did he would have thought them a threat to his power.” 

Tom frowned at the description of the snake face, he had been seeing ramifications but he had not been turning reptilian. He doubts that Harry will show him any memories that he had of the experiences. He guards things about his past like a dragon did their hoard only letting Tom close enough if he baits him into it when he is not as ready to breathe fire. 

“I don’t think I would waste the opportunity to mold someone that could be of use to me.” Tom had always been an opportunist. He would make do with anything that was placed in his hands, child or not. They would have some use. “My own blood would perhaps have some connection to me and seek my approval. I could shape that to someone that could govern whatever empire that I created.”

“That makes me a little sick to my stomach thinking about. I am never leaving you near any small children.” Harry shifts uneasily. 

Which now is not making Tom as happy to see the other uncomfortable around him there is a difference in this reluctance than the usual. He curses the soul parts of himself that are in need of closeness, that like making the other uncomfortable but not fearful of him. Fear from Harry would undoubtedly spell his end of help or lead to an angry version that would be like a hell storm. He won't forget the last time the other was made that Death showed up. And Tom wants nothing to do with the entity. 

“I have no need to be around them so it's not like you have reason to protect them from me.” Tom shakes his head trying to get the tone lighter again and Harry seems to have taken that as a good way to come back to the conversation entirely. 

“Well this conversation has derailed. No matter what name you pick I am still calling you Tom.” Harry stands and looks like he is thinking about going back to his office. The other has been pouring over some of his older tomes and Tom wonders if he is looking for yet another way to help him. Considering that Harry seemed to think his latest display of magic was lacking. Not that he would argue with him. 

“Why are you so attainment with calling me, Tom.” 

“Because I like it.” Harry smiles slightly, “It's easy to remember, easy to curse, and makes me laugh every time I think of such a horrifying figure in my life being named something as simple as Tom. It makes it all the more human I suppose.” 

Tom’s eyes twitch slightly at the explanation.

“But also.” Harry continues on like he had not just insulted him. “You let me call you it, and I know that no one else would be able to.” 

That for some reason makes him falter, the cleaver quip never leaves his tongue, because it was true. He would kill anyone that would have dared to call him that horrid name. He knows that it's his name, but he has no like for it. No love at all for it. It’s plain, human, and not exactly something that fills one’s enemies with dread. And every opportunity that Harry has he uses it. He even went out of his way to confirm this fact when he was in a locket. To Harry, he was not the Voldemort that terrorized him in the original timeline. He was a saner version and perhaps that made it easier to distinguish the two by calling one version, Tom. 

Harry shows no love for Voldemort, no care in the way that he talks about him nor that of Tom Riddle, but just Tom he has some care in his voice for. Some part that wants to annoy and seek him out. He no longer has a reply to that and it wouldn’t have mattered if he did because Harry had scurried off. 

He sits there for a long moment thinking at least of the possibility of the positives that would come with a new identity, claiming his lordship and seats that had been just sitting there was one. Another was that many of his old followers would have a wish to follow him, as there might be a chance that he was half the Wizard that his ‘father’ was, and would continue his work. There also were those that would by the mere mention of such a name would hate him before he even made a single move. Dumbledore would jump to conclusions a lot faster than any of the others. It could be fun though to see how the old man would attempt to outmaneuver him on the political field. 

Still he wouldn’t have minded Marvolo, perhaps Tom could be his middle name… Harry then wouldn’t have looked half-mad using it. 

Well and all of his future hinged on the fact he needed to get his magic under control and his core fixed. He set the papers down and picked up the book that he had been reading with a sigh. At least having his wand has helped a little bit. 

~/*\~

 **I was hoping that you would take the opportunity while in the Ministry to come my way. I had tea ready to go in the off chance.**

Death is standing in the corner of the small office space. If Harry had nearly the same level of self-control and common sense as Tom he would have been in bed. But he has never been one for common sense or looking to take proper care of himself. 

“I am sorry Death.” Harry closes yet another one of his more dark books. “I was a little preoccupied.” 

**Yes with your side project.** There is a smile on his features. It's all in the way that there is that blue glow behind the sockets. **So do you have leads in discovering, young Riddles issue with his magic?**

“I have a few theories and none of them the said side project is going to like the reasoning behind.” 

**Ah well he never seems to like anything does he?**

“He definitely dislikes a great deal of things, but I have seen him smile a few times so there must be something beyond violence for him to like.” Harry acknowledges. 

**All the times that I do stop by and check-in he is reading or practicing spells. He is a little bit more boring than his previous reincarnation.**

Yes because Death lived for entertainment. 

“I think that once he has his magic back fully he will be a lot more interesting as you put it.” Harry pictures it much like someone that has just got their driver's license and wants to drive everywhere or someone that just reached the legal drinking age. He can easily see Tom just going wild for a bit.

He doesn’t realize he is smiling at that until Death makes a soft chuckle. **I stand corrected, this is a bit more interesting than other timelines. I look forward to seeing how Riddle reacts to the price it will take to become acquainted with large amounts of his magic again and if it will overwhelm him IF he does have the ability again.**

Pleasant as ever Death was humming to himself with the thought about it. He moved to the shelf and shifted the books around. Pulling out one, in particular, it was a leather-bound one and was a rare acquire. 

**This one may prove useful.**

Harry took it from him and feels that chill that he always feels when he is too close to the entity.

“Why do I feel like you already know how to solve the problem?” Harry narrowed his eyes a little watching the creature before him. 

**I don’t know what you are talking about.** There is a definite more defined smile on his skull. **I am simply helping you to reach the proper conclusions sooner. I don’t have any way of knowing for sure if my own assumptions are correct.**

“Helping me then without telling me the answer entirely.” Harry was slightly amused, slightly frustrated “And here I thought you were truly assisting me.” 

**And miss having you to puzzle things out yourself, and time to bond better with your project? I think it is unlikely that I would do such a thing.**

There is a small ticking that can be heard from Death's robe. 

**Ah there is an old woman down the road set to fall down a flight of stairs. Must be off, you might need to translate that book I gave you, the last chapter might be a bit more helpful in understanding souls.**

“Thanks.” Harry yawned, finally wanting to succumb to sleep. He heads off to bed picking up Voldie that is on the floor by his desk. He bites at his fingers playfully as Harry sets him in the cat bed. Moon Moon is already on the side pillow, and Garfield is posting himself on the sill. 

He falls asleep rather well for the first time in a while. 

Death’s suggestion leads him to better define his theories on how to fix Tom’s magical core problem. He doesn’t know how exactly to bring it up to Tom though, as it feels like an argument waiting to happen. Perhaps he should double-check before he cements himself into that full-fledged argument. 

~/*\~

Harry has been acting a bit distant the last few days. He is not in the office with him, he is not eating meals with him, and he somehow switches between rooms using the halls to outmaneuver him. At first, he had thought it was because of the new invigoration for spell work and other magic that the other has somehow decided was worth all of his time. But it becomes clear that the other is doing it, as it's a small house and he has to purposely be doing it. 

By the end of the week, it is more annoying than anything. It's like he has decided that since he has given him the papers that it's all over. He glares at him as he enters the kitchen. They usually eat together and yet he is taking something and attempting to leave again. It’s flighty and certainly doesn’t suit him. 

“Harry is there a reason that you are avoiding me?” He tilts his head, blocking him by moving the chair out just so that he was by the counter with no good way to go around. Tom figures going with a direct approach is in his best interest. It gave no escape.

“Well if you're going to trap me prematurely into this conversation, I suppose I might as well tell you.” Harry runs a hand through his hair which is the universal sign that he is stressed and searching for the best words. “I have 3 theories about what is wrong with your core and how to fix it.” 

Well that was better than what he had originally thought that this was about. “You're sure that it's not because you want to get rid of me?”

He blinks.

“You did give me papers to build myself a new identity.” Tom smiles a little as Harry seems to relax just slightly. Enough to nervously laugh, his hands still tangled in his black locks. 

“I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.” Harry smiles just slightly. “I have just been double-checking and consorting my books. Death has been particularly interested in seeing if it's possible to fix it.” 

That ugly feeling of unease fills him. He doesn’t really like when Death is brought into things and if Harry is consulting him then there is probably something really indeed wrong with it.

“I have 3 theories.” Harry drops his hand to the counter and out of his hair. “Magic is associated with our souls, as our souls really are us. You had a developed core when you split your soul into at least this time around 6 parts. Each split took a little of your magic with it, not enough that it was detrimental because your core was developed. When I built that body I had to use the one shard that held your conscience which really was less than 2% of your soul so my first theory hinges on the fact that you only have 2% of a soul to work magic with. Not really the best way to develop a powerful core.” 

“And I am guessing the only way to fix it is to mend with the other shards and get a full soul again.” Tom sneers. “How convenient for you.”

“And this is why I was avoiding telling you.” Harry matched his look. “It was far from intentional. Now do you want to get into a full argument or do you want to give your thoughts about my other theories.” 

His words are not enough to really calm how angry Tom is about the circumstances of getting his magic back. But it is in his best interest to at least listen to the other possibilities before he committed to trying to do anything rash. 

“The other theory I have is that you don’t have to mend completely with them, just be able to be in touch with them, in that case having most of your soul back will help. Half of it is still in a diary.”

“Malfoy has that shard, not an easy thing to get from him in my current state.” Tom admits as it was hard to do much other than seem intimidating. He needed magic to really confirm who he was and threaten the cretin into complying into giving him something so important back. 

Harry goes silent. He doesn’t bring up the last of his ideas. He has folded his arms protectively and started to lean against the counter a bit harder than before. 

“And the last?” Tom prompts him. He has a feeling that this is something that he really doesn’t want to hear by the look that Harry has on his face. Harry grips his arms hard and his nails dig into his flesh a little. 

“The last is I messed up the anchoring of magic to the body. It’s not likely, but it’s possible, and if that is the case the core you have will never grow and I can not create you another body. I bound the tiny unstable part of you to that vessel and I would probably kill you if I attempted to move it.” 

~/*\~

Harry waits for the inevitable freak out, a tantrum, or something. But Tom is quiet, reflective. He is gripping the table rather hard, so hard that his knuckles have turned white. The last of his theories would explain if they fix the soul what went wrong if the magic didn’t work it's the least likely but it is a possibility. One that Harry had to come to terms with. 

“Leave me.” Tom says darkly, in a voice that reminds him all too much of that night in the graveyard, where Tom was upset that he was not killing him and that even after cruitos that Harry was still fighting against him. 

“Talk to me about it, when you feel like it.” Harry decides to offer, he’s not sure why but he feels sorry for the other. He knows that this can not be easy as to Tom magic is everything. This must have been shattering, the fact that he can not do what he wishes, can not achieve anything that he desires without it. 

He doesn’t even know if they are friends or close to it. He has no idea if he even would be someone worth talking to. But he is the only one that is there, and so he feels obligated for some stupid reason. He leaves the room to the sound of something glass shattering. 

~/*\~

Tom managed to destroy the kitchen before he took off to god knows where. He leaves the few things that he does own behind so Harry feels like the other will be coming back. He has Kreacher clean up the mess, as the house-elf is more suited for large stretches of repairing magic. 

When Tom comes back, he looks like he has been sent through the wringer, he has no bruises and he doesn’t smell like liquor but his face just says it all. It is someone that has been running a hand through their hair too often gripping at their face and looks just beaten down by everything. 

Harry doesn’t move when he sees the other shut the door or just slump into the green armchair that is nearest to him. Asking if the other is okay just seems like it is a waste of breath because he very obviously isn’t.

“Do you wish to be alone?” Harry decides, “or can I get you anything.”

Tom lets out a very deep sigh and presses his right palm over his right eye. Loki moves slowly closer, she rubs against his leg and then slowly makes her way up onto the chair with a good jump that digs her claws into the fabric. She then pushes herself into the arm that is holding Tom together. 

And he laughs a quiet and horrible wet sort of one. The silence stretches a little and Tom’s fingers dig a little into the cat's fur. They are not painful he can tell just messaging deeply and making the loose hair be forced up and off the cat in tufts. The cat purrs to her credit. 

“I can’t fix my soul Harry.” Tom tells him after a little while, “I can not remember the last time I have felt remorse or if I have ever felt it. Just like Dumbledore’s proclamation that I know nothing about love or yours about feeling sorry for something, how am I supposed to feel something that I never felt.”

“So you are giving up, just like that?” Harry asks honestly, amazed in a way that he never thought that he would be. Tom sounds defeated, and Harry has never encountered a version of the man that hasn’t fought him tooth and nail against impossible odds. 

Tom’s fingers grip into the material of the sofa, he has let go of Loki that looks at him with her big green eyes as if to demand him to continue to pet her. “I don’t see a win in any way of this. I can not mend the shards if I don’t feel remorse, which I can’t. I don’t want to come in contact with the other shards, they bring things that are horrible too close to me. And If I do manage to mend it all there is a chance that I die or still can’t do anything because this body will not allow it.” 

“Are you just going to give up?” Harry shakes his head, “You were willing to try anything to rise to power, why would this be any different.” 

Tom glares at him, it looks more tired than anything. 

“Don’t give up, yet. Just because one idea doesn’t work doesn’t mean others won't. There is no reason to get this way before there has even been a chance to try. I am sure that we can come up with a solution.” 

“We?” Tom blinks at him and looks at him strangely, there is a small tugging at his lips like he wants to smile but is holding it back. 

“Yes, we haven’t you figured it out by now? Everything I have done so far in this life has been so that we could escape what fate bound us together for.” It’s just the right amount of truth that Harry sort of hates his own phrasing of it. 

He had not meant to get even a little attached to the other. Death had been the one to encourage him not to hate Tom as purely a means to get the other to do what he needed done. But it had led to something, perhaps not caring. Harry doesn’t know if he can care for Voldemort or Tom or whatever he wanted to be called in the near future. But he can acknowledge that they are in this mess together and that he is a little fond of him. Fond of the times that they are not fighting all out and can have civil discussions with each other. Tom always looks more human to him then. 

He isn’t sure he likes the way that Tom is looking at him. His eyes are very large, brown, and searching. They are not vulnerable. Tom is never going to be that word, but the look is not exactly predatory either. There is something there like the way that he looks at Loki. 

Fondness perhaps… or maybe he finds what Harry has said to be slightly humorous and endearing. 

“Of course you are right Harry.” Tom says smoothly. “We shall try to get the diary back first and go from there.” 

“Better.” Harry notices the other’s more composed face and posture. His eyes don’t change though and Harry feels that strange burning feeling that he has when the other holds onto his hand. It’s not painful, but he can feel the slight tingle in his scar and to his chest. 

~/*\~

The plan was developed they would both make their appearance to the full public on the day of Black’s Trail. They would be doing so together, as there was no better way to throw aside some suspicion as being connected to Harry for those that thought that he was no matter what their savior and for those that would think him to be the next Dark Lord the association with Marvolo Tomas Guant. It was a simple goal, become in the public eye and receive an invite to one or more of the Malfoy charity events, such a thing would make it possible to force Lucius into handing over the diary, which they would quickly alter his memories of them ever asking for such a thing. 

Harry held out his arm to Tom that looped his through for apparition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are still crazy out there, but for the most part the worst of it is over. (People have fortified here to withstand anything.) Continue to be safe and thank you all for reading. 
> 
> Next Chapter is the trial for Sirius Black and Pettigrew :D


	9. Trial and Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius is cleared of all charges and is not sure what to make of Marvolo Gaunt and his Godson's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends ＼(●~▽~●)

It's the talk of the town, or rather the entire country and even outside of it. Hogsmeade to London no matter the place as long as it was in the Wizarding World someone was talking about it. Harry Potter the boy who lived had been abused in his early childhood and scooped up by Death Eaters that had tried to get him to become the next Dark Lord or they had kidnapped and tortured him to find out his secrets. There was nothing but rumors at this point but one thing was for certain. He wanted his Godfather to be cleared of the charges that he had been wrongly accused of. The evidence and the testament by the boy who lived were astounding and there were hundreds of people that were gathered just to catch a brief look at him. 

He was sure to come and that was the reason that Severus Snape posted himself in one of the many nooks in the main lobby by the courtrooms. It was not just because Albus had asked him too. No, that old bird was controlling as ever, but Severus had his own reasons to be there. He is hoping to at least meet the other and warn him of the Headmaster's ideas, if not a bit subtly. If he can not do this by the crowd or by other interference the least he can do is make sure that other unfriendly spells don’t harm the child. He grips the small charm that Lily had given him that he uses as a fasten to his robes, the pretty leaf feels rough under his fingers, he strokes the ridges readying himself for nearly anything.

Harry comes into the lobby with a grace of apparition that is dark like robes unfolding. He is smaller than most 13-year-olds, stunted in a way. He hardly looks like someone that would be turning 14. He looks a lot like James, his hair though is messier and he has beautiful green eyes that remind him so very much of Lily. He is amazed by the person before him in a way, the posture, the confidence that seems to be in him as he smiles at the world is much like how Lily would look at him when telling him that they were in for it for being out late with her parents. But she would brush his concerns away with that kind look. Harry is looping arms with a taller boy that looks strikingly similar as he has the same dark hair be it more controlled. He has a more prideful look about him, dressed like he was from a more decent home. Harry looks like he has not put too much care into his dress robes, they do look to be of older fashion. The other boy makes no move to release the other. He leans in and whispers to Harry and starts to steer him towards the courtroom. The glint to Harry’s eyes never changes. The person that he is with, he must be close to. Even if he is older and possibly just reached Magically of age. 

He slides into the courtroom after them, making sure that his note makes it easily into Potter’s pocket. 

~/*\~

The lobby to the courtroom materializes around them. Tom takes a quick note of his surroundings, the doors, windows, and other exits. His eyes survey the room and those that are in it. There are plenty of people that are already making their way forward. Tom easily is able to steer the smaller boy with him so that there is no way that anyone that they do not want to be cornered by will take the opportunity. 

“Follow my lead.” He whispers to the other, moving them as if they are at one of the old ball dances that he used to attend for networking with the social elites. He keeps the smile on his face and the kind posture that looks just friendly enough. Harry grunts as he takes him the easy way towards the other room sidestepping without being obvious those that are getting closer for press reasons and through the door. 

He is near-blind by the camera flashes that are showering from above them and to the sides. Harry’s grip on him tightens a little. 

“Smile.” Tom encourages. “We want to seem like it's good that we're together.” 

Harry snorts at him rolling his eyes, which seems to have some sort of desired effect because the whispers have increased on who the great Harry Potter is with and why they have never seen him before. Tom takes this as their moment. He carefully moves them away from the flashes and the questions, that they have no intent to answer. It made them all that more mysterious and if there was one thing that people loved it was a good mystery, that and a good sob story. Tom was familiar with using both tactics to get what it is that he wanted. 

There are a few seats reserved and Tom easily makes out Harry’s intended place near the Minister and a few of the other more political figureheads that are acting as a full set today. He cares nothing for taking a seat that probably was intended for someone other than himself. He is sure that anyone that is supposed to sit there will want to be accommodating to someone that Harry has arrived with. 

Harry is frowning deeply at the scene before him as there is a cage and a chair in the middle of the tiled floor that dips below them. 

“Reminds me of my own trial.” Harry says dryly. “They had me seated in that same chair for underaged magic because a toady Witch decided that she would have Dementors attack me and my cousin. I sometimes wonder if I should have let them have Dudley would have made the joke of a hearing they had for me a lot harder to explain.” 

“By the small bit that you have told me about your relatives he probably would have deserved it.” Tom wouldn’t mind being allowed to murder the Muggles that had bothered Harry greatly, it could give the man closure as they would never breathe a foul breath towards another child again. It would be a fun way to relieve some of the stress that he had been feeling lately over the issues with his magic. He hated feeling vulnerable and it made it in his best interest to stick close to Harry. 

Harry says nothing to him about it and continues to let Tom lead him all the way up to their intended seats. Tom released him so that they could sit. His eyes traveled the room until they locked onto the man that he had known would come. Dumbledore looked as if he had seen a ghost. He was doing his best to compose himself but there was that look of shock and then disdain. Tom pretends like he is confused by the others' look and sets himself to look at other things, keeping the man though in his peripheral vision. 

“Don’t look now but we may have already garnered your supposed magical guardian’s notice.” 

Harry actually smiled a little at that, making it obvious that he is looking at the other intentionally looking at him. “I am glad, I hope he spends the rest of the trial panicked that you will cause something.”

“I could cause a scene if you wanted.” Tom smiles greatly at the opportunity to freak the other out, not enough to warrant the man trying to attack him. But Tom would never miss an opportunity to make the other look like a fool. The crazier and more deranged that the headmaster seemed the easier it would be to influence those that sought to be around him. They would lose faith in their leader quicker if they suspected that he had it out for someone that was not yet even at the legal magical age. 

He noticed Severus slipping into one of the seats below them. He is trying not to make it obvious that he is observing them. If Tom had any faith left in any of those that he called his followers he might have approached the other for some magical straightening potions, he could use a few of those at the moment. Yes, they would only have worked for a short time, but in an emergency, they would have been useful. 

He can not trust anyone, only the boy that sits a bit closer to him so that their shoulders are touching. 

~/*\~

The trial goes well. Harry has the feeling that the only reason that it does is because the Minister wants to make sure that he remains on Harry’s good side. Tom is stone-faced throughout the trial it is impossible to make out what the other is thinking at the moment, but he is sure that once they are alone that the other will spill anything that is turning over in his mind. 

Harry waits until the verdict has been given and stands when Sirius is cleared of all charges clapping. He cares little for the decorum of the court; he makes it known that he is glad that justice has finally been served. He pulls Tom along with him to see his Godfather. He gives the man a hug and the man hugs him surprisingly tight back. 

“I am glad that you are free.” Harry smiles at him. “This is Marv.”

“Don’t call me that nickname, I swear it gets worse every time that I hear it.” Tom shakes his head and waves a little.“I am Marvolo Gaunt.” 

There are a few people that whisper at that name. Tom to his credit doesn’t look bothered at all by it. Malfoy who has snuck closer is for sure interested.

“He’s a bit annoying but you get used to him.” Harry holds the man that is in desperate need of a shower closer before letting go, he might have dressed decently for his hearing but he definitely had yet to take better care of himself. “He helped me to catch Pettigrew.” 

“I was more or less dragged along for the ride.” Tom folds his arms protectively in front of himself. “Harry gets ideas and then just runs with them.” 

This causes the ‘older’ man to smile. “Just like James, stubborn.” He shakes his head and the long black hair flips with it much like a dog’s ears would. “I heard about the stunt you pulled in the papers, I am sure there are more details that they have yet to even share as they can’t print it.” 

Harry snorts. “Probably.” 

Tom has moved a bit closer to him and holds out his hand for Sirius to shake and as all good purebloods are taught Sirius does oblige him, perhaps shaking it a bit strongly as he also has not failed to notice how Tom has not taken his eyes off of Harry. 

They separate and Tom moves closer to Harry’s side again making it known that they are very close. Harry supposes that the plan is to make themselves known as this as it places them in a good position to get what they want from Malfoy. But it is a little ridiculous the bit of fake concern and hovering that Tom is presenting. If anything the only thing that Tom has to worry about is Harry deciding not to apparate him back home. 

At this point, Fudge and a few other officials including the press have made their tight circle around them. 

“Lord Black it is good to see that justice has been done, and your name finally cleared.” 

“Right.” It is evident that his Godfather has not forgotten who it was that had placed him into prison in the first place without a key or trial. 

“It should have been done properly ages ago.” Harry shakes his head, this trial should never have had to happen. I trust that the Ministry will do a better job with investigations into the future. There are still those that are active Death Eaters that are running about, that are the ones that truly need to be brought to justice.”

“Well said, Harry.” The Minister tugs a little at his robe collar. “With your help we could make some proper arrests.”

“You assume a lot, Minister.” Tom interjects. “I see no reason that Harry should have to put himself back into danger for the sake of the Ministry to do its job.”

“Harry is the only witness to his kidnapping nearly a decade ago. And I do not believe that we have met.” Harry can tell that Tom does not like the dismissive tone that he is shown. 

Sirius doesn’t look at all pressed with the idea that Harry has been kidnapped or been placed into danger, he has the look of a guard dog that is about to go off on just how little of a shit he cares about pleasantries. 

Harry tries to save the situation before it crashes and burns. 

“He is my partner, Marvolo Tomas Gaunt.” Harry starts with his introduction. 

Tom purrs slightly at the introduction and loops his arm through Harry’s in a very strong display of ownership. It is obvious that Tom has decided that partner should mean dating or courting rather than research and investigative assistant like Harry would have gone on further to explain. He doesn’t see any harm in humoring the other and leans into him and can feel that heat trickle through their bond. Sirius is again studying the both of them, and Harry can feel his face heating up slightly under the gaze of the other. It’s too late to correct it now, and they are living together so there were already going to be accusations. He is going to curse Tom perhaps over his smugness over the idea later though. He had no business looking this pleased with the development. 

“Yes and he does not have to do anything that he does not wish to.” Tom grins like he has gutted someone and he is basking in the carnage that can ensue. 

“And how old are you in comparison to young Harry.” Dumbledore had entered the fray. “It is a bit concerning that he has a partner that looks to be of age.”

“I am 16.” Tom says defensively. “We’re 2 years apart, care to make an accusation?” 

Harry could almost laugh at the way that Tom is quick to defend himself on that. He could be accused of murder and he probably wouldn’t have batted an eye. He tightened his hold on the other trying to calm him. 

“It's not like he has a leg to stand on Tom.” Harry rolls his eyes. “He is the one that left me with my abusive relatives, and let my kidnapping happen by assuming that the blood wards would save me.”

“Ah this is him, I can not say that I am glad to make your acquaintance. I have heard a lot about you from my limited family and Harry, nothing good mind you.” Tom recovers and remembers himself. 

“You left Harry with them didn’t you!” Sirius though cut off the playful banter with an almost inhuman growl. “Lily asked for him to be taken to the Longbottoms should something happen to me. You placed him directly in harm's way by placing him with that disgusting Muggle wretch. You defied the very will that was in place, you old, breaded, goat fucking coot.” 

Harry was quick to pull free of Tom to place a hand on Sirius’s shoulder to pull him away from doing something that he would regret as he is getting into the other’s face and literally looks like he wants to take the head off the other. 

Dumbledore doesn’t look at all fazed by this, but Harry can see that he is holding the unbeatable wand up his sleeve ready to do whatever needs to be done. 

“Perhaps that was wrong of me, but I can scarcely say that the Longbottoms were in any shape to take the boy. They suffered a fate worse than death after the Dark Lord fell; his followers went after them, tortured them out of their minds.” 

“I am sure that should she still be alive that Augusta, bless her, would have taken him in and raised him as her own. Foster care would have been better than that shriveled woman and her walrus husband.” 

“It’s fine Sirius.” Harry is going to be an adult and bring an end to this. “As I have told Marvolo I am over the past and am not bound by anyone's rules any longer. He has no claim on my guardianship no matter how he wants it.” 

“There is still the issue of your education…” Fudge starts butting into the wrong side of the war of wills.

“We have tutors.” Tom interjects smoothly, “there are better ways to learn than going to a school with hundreds of others with teachers that would be unable to assess one's individual needs and pacings.” 

“And yet we have not had anyone come forward to say that they have been teaching Harry Potter or give information on the search.” Dumbledore presses. 

Harry at this point is getting more and more annoyed. “Some people respect privacy.” He says it very pointedly. “ If you need any type of records I will be more than happy to send you an owl. This time with a return address and we will be heading off now. I would like to see anyone try and stop me from returning home with my proper guardian.”

No one moves forward and Harry leads the way out into the hall. 

“Please hold tight.” He holds out his hands. 

~/*\~

Sirius glances around him as the space that he is in looks familiar and completely different in so many ways, this was his childhood home and there are the colors of gold and red blended into a nice comfy setting. It feels welcoming and that is not something that he thought would ever be possible in such a place. There are cats that line the sofa by the fire. They all look relaxed and their eyes shine with Magical intelligence. Sirius spent so long in his dog form that he can practically smell the interesting magic off of them. It's the same slightly dark feeling that he gets now that he is near Marvolo. Harry himself doesn’t give off the most friendly if smells, but he is hardly a dark wizard. 

Harry lets go of both of them. “Glad to be home.” 

Harry kicks off his shoes and a very ugly hairless cat makes its way over to them, it's the only one that moves. At first Sirius thinks that the cat is coming to greet them or to make sure that he is someone friendly, but he gets clawed hard for no reason as the cat seems to take pride in climbing up his leg.

“Voldie, you stupid cat.” Harry grabs the raw chicken and Marvolo looks highly amused. Harry holds the thing closer and it calms down, biting lightly on his fingers before just licking them and relaxing into a wrinkly blob in his arms. The big blue eyes of the thing look at him still judgingly. It's really a fitting and rather strange name for a cat. 

“I got a similar greeting when I met him, he tried to eat my pancakes after throwing the syrup on the floor.” The tall boy pulls a little loosening his tie. He sits in the large green armchair and the black cat jumps down and struts towards him.

“Kreacher,” Harry calls the house elf that had never treated Sirius with anything but disdain bows to Harry. “Can you please put on some tea, I feel like I am going to have a very long talk with my Godfather.” 

“Yes, young Master.” Kreacher bows again and Harry takes himself to the sofa. “Please sit wherever.” Harry now sounds a bit more like his age. He showed great maturity in the ministry and now he is a bit awkward like any teen would be.

Sirius takes the other chair that is opposite the sofa where all the cats are taking up spaces. 

“I figured that you wouldn’t mind that I claimed my titles and revamped the house.” Harry adjusts himself so that he doesn’t sit on any of his furry friends. “Your mother was something to get off the wall I will tell you that.” 

Sirius actually feels himself smile a real smile at that. It's been a very long time since he has had the urge to. He has spent the last few months on the run and before then he had been in a prison that would have made hell look like a walk in the park. The only thing that had kept him going was the idea that Peter had taken himself with his little display, but he hadn’t his picture had shown up in the paper and he had known he had to avenge his real family. Now he was sitting across from the son of the people he loved most. He was something that was a mix of his parents, and a hint of something else. Marvolo was proof of that. The other boy looks so well composed and reminds him much of the purebloods that he had to deal with in school. He had been certain that the Guants line had died, but all the proof that he needed that the other existed and was who he said he was, was the locket that pokes out from under his shirt. 

Marvolo catches his eye and he puts a hand up almost defensively towards it. It's not like he has any interest in taking it, but he can’t help but notice the protective way that he keeps it close. 

“I suppose that there are many things to discuss.” Harry sits up a bit straighter in his seat. “The first being that this is technically your home that I have been staying in with Marv here.”

“Harry please, It was better when you called me Tom.” He looks offended by the words and his pretty seeming face contorts with it. 

Harry hums. “We like it here, and I have put a lot of work into the place, I am hopeful that you wouldn’t kick us out of it.” 

“I would like to see him try.” Marvolo tightens his fingers just slightly on the chair that he is sitting in. 

“We're not threatening my Godfather.” Harry narrows his eyes at the other.

“There was no threat there.” Marvolo smiles sweetly, and it is the fakest smile that Sirius has ever seen. He is not sure what his godchild sees in this kid but he can see that they are an odd pair. One that seems to like messing with each other. 

Harry sighs deeply. “Ignore him.”

“Please don’t.” Marvolo matches the sigh. “It's nice having someone else to talk to besides the cats.”

“We don’t get out much,” Harry confirms. “The cats make better conversation than Tom.” 

“I can at least attest to not getting out much, the other part is completely because he is delusional.” 

“I feel like I am going to be the old man here, and ask that we return to this idea of the both of you living here.” Sirius feels very tired all of a sudden but in a sort of a good way. He feels like he has come home to something that feels almost normal. Something that he has deeply missed, good human contact. “I don’t mind that you live here nor would I kick you out, I certainly like the additions to the place.” 

“See someone likes my decorating.” Harry smiles largely.

“He has seen but one room, certainly he has better taste than you.” Marvolo disagrees instantly. 

He can't help but laugh at the kid's attitude. “Don’t bet on it kid. James and I just had his parents throw things together for us. Lily was the only one with a sense of style.” 

Harry frowns a little and Marvolo looks a little uncomfortable at the shift in topic and tone. He sometimes forgets that his friends are dead and that one of his 'friends' he had once trusted is getting the demeanor kiss in a week. He feels bad for the shift in mood to a more somber one.

“I apologize…” He starts because he had lost his friends that night and Harry had lost his parents. Harry though cuts him off.

“No, I would like to know more about them. I only knew them a year of my life and things are very blurry from that time. To not talk about them is a disgrace to their memory.” He rubs at his head and Sirius can see the scar that has marked him from that night. 

“Yes… it is good to understand them.” Marvolo hesitantly adds. 

“How did you two meet?” He decides to shift topics again away from uncomfortably into something that interests him greatly. 

“I was kidnapped by Death Eaters, Marvolo here was held for a similar but different reason. He is the bastard child of Lord Voldemort. One of us was thought to possibly be a replacement. We escaped together and have been living together ever since.” 

Harry folds his hands in front of him, letting his message sit in and Sirius can not help but feel a chill up his spine at the thought of the man that had slaughtered hundreds having a child. Said child is in a relationship with his godchild and that had to be the reason behind why the other was uncomfortable talking about Harry’s parents, his father had essentially killed them. And the closeness despite opposites makes sense, going through something traumatic tended to do that to people. Marvolo takes more from the Slytherin side than Harry but there is definitely evidence of Harry’s resourcefulness and cleverness. 

“I can see why you are together then.” He gives it his blessing. 

Harry chuckles. “We’re not really a couple but we are partners in a way, Tom is gifted in magic as am I. I have been studying how to protect against the dark. I have little interest in fighting Voldemort should he show his ugly snake face again. But there are a few people that I do care for and I do wish to keep them safe from that.” 

Sirius can very well understand that. “It's not your fight regardless of what a prophecy says, or that old goat fucker.” 

Marvolo laughs deeply and richly. “I love your descriptions of him, so much better than Harry’s. I do like your Godfather Harry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Said person is sitting there and you can talk to him like a normal person.” 

“Very well. I like your spirit, Lord Black.” Marvolo is grinning much like a shark, it looks wrong in a way. Not so much that it is off-putting but it reminds him more of a predator than the slightly tall scrawny boy that he is. Then again he was the son of the most feared Dark Wizard there ever was. There very well could be a darkness lurking in the other, tamer than the monster's but certainly there. 

Sirius though would reserve judgment. He in his youth would have been quick to jump to conclusions involving the other, but as someone that was locked up for something that he didn’t do, and because of someone that he didn’t think remotely had the skills to be a spy, Sirius was a bit more open to not judging people by the cover or who they were related to. There were of course more to people than good and evil. 

“Sirius is fine.” He never was one for titles. He takes the offered tea from Kreacher that seems to be trying not to think about him being there. At least he doesn’t say anything that would make Sirius want to kick or strangle him. Not that he would do that sort of behavior in front of Harry. 

Marvolo nods swiftly. “Sirius it is then. Will you be staying with us for the foreseeable future or will you be leaving us be.” 

He takes his cup with grace but Kreacher, Sirius can tell, dislikes him more so than he does the disgraced Black heir. 

The question that Marvolo proposes is something that he is debating. Harry might need a parental figure in his life as it has for sure been lacking it, but then Sirius is not really suited to be a parent and had been self-sufficient when he was about Harry’s age. He had not needed people to tell him how to live or make his choices. He had a feeling that Harry was much the same way. His show at the ministry showed that he seemed to really strive for his own independence. Marvolo seemed to want to be alone with Harry so even if Harry didn’t see Marvolo as something more than a friend it was obvious that he didn’t feel the same way. He also didn’t seem to trust him so that was another thing.

“I will be staying for a little while.” Sirius decides as this is the best way to gauge everything. “I wish to get to know my Godson and you. I then will probably take a trip for healing purposes. I have been under a lot of stress and had other issues while I was away.” 

Harry smiles sadly. “I wanted to get to you sooner, but it was not possible. I’ll have Kreacher set you up in the guest bedroom. I have your old room and Tom has been using Regulus’s room. If you need anything let me know. We’ll have an early dinner. I’ll be preparing it.” 

He is a little surprised by this. 

“Harry is a very good cook.” Marvolo or perhaps he should think of him as Tom as that is the only way that Harry addresses him. 

“He is just saying that because Kreacher will not cook him anything, and he is awful at it.” Harry shakes his head. “I really am not that good, I just find it a relaxing hobby when I am not being threatened into it.” 

~/*\~

Harry watches his Godfather look a little uncomfortable, but takes the tea that has been offered to him gratefully, he thanks Kreacher for it as it seems that no one has shown the elf any ounce of thankfulness but himself. He doesn't expect Sirius to because the elf has been rude to him even as a child, and Tom is Tom.

“How long were you with Petunia and her pig of a husband.” 

“4 years was plenty.” Harry answers simply, “I almost am grateful to have been taken from them honestly, being kidnapped was better than them. Petunia had no love for me or her sister. I was told that my parents were drunkards and that they wrecked themselves on a tree and that was how I got my scar.” 

The sugar container shatters and Harry looks over at Tom because it wasn’t Sirius that had made it happen. 

“Apologies,” Tom says sweetly with that fake smile on his face. Harry really hates that face, it's his lie one. 

Harry has told him a few of the things that had happened to him with his relatives only enough to say that it was horrible. He didn’t know why it bothered Tom more than it did Sirius that his parents were considered to be such ‘trash’ and ‘freaks’ but then maybe Tom was just insulted that the thing that bound them together and housed the shard of his soul would be considered to have happened by something so muggle. Harry fixes the mess quickly and effortlessly, knowing that there was no other way that it would be fixed otherwise. 

“I should have never gone after Pettigrew that night, I should have made sure that you were safe.” Sirius sounds very bitter about that. He had felt that way before when they had talked about a possible new life together after they caught Peter. It had never come to pass, and should this still have been his first life, he would have really wanted the other to stay with him, raise him, and keep him away from his relatives. 

“It’s not at all your fault Sirius, the blame lies with Peter for giving Voldemort the invitation to come to the home. You didn’t take my parents from me.” 

“I was the one that would have been the secret keeper, I never would have given the information up. I convinced James to put his faith in the wrong person.” Sirius dares to argue with him. 

“Sirius, it's okay…” 

Sirius shakes his head again, just seeming baffled by Harry’s ability to forgive him that easily. And Harry is ready to launch into some sort of improved speech that will perhaps fail him as he has no idea what he is doing but he would try. He has never been the best at comforting another person, he is a good listener, not a motivational or moving speaker. 

“You will find Harry to be very forgiving.” Tom folds his hands in his lap rather neatly, “too much so for perhaps his own good.” Their eyes meet. “It is my father's fault for targeting the Potters and believing in foolish prophecies. If you wish to place blame where it belongs blame the person that started the foolish war to begin with. There is nothing though that can undo the past, no matter how we wish it.” 

Harry has nothing to say to that. It sounds like an apology but it also sounds like exactly what Sirius would want to hear. It is impossible for Harry to read Tom, and he is not close enough to feel it for himself. He wants to believe as foolish as it is that those pretty words are the start of being remorseful but he is not sure that he should extend it that far. Perhaps all that Tom can manage at the moment is knowing that he made a mistake and that it has hurt others. 

Sirius downs the rest of his tea. “I think that I shall take a bath before dinner Harry, I am very grateful to you for playing host to me.” 

“It really isn’t an issue Sirius, I am just glad to have my father's best friend free. I am hopeful that we can grow close. I would like to learn dueling from someone that I have heard great things about.” 

Sirius smiles at that very fondly. “I will be quite rusty.” 

“All the more reason for practice.” Harry assures. “We can start when you feel up to it.” 

“Will you join us Marvolo?” Sirius seems to want to include Tom. 

The man's smile thins a little. “I am afraid not. I am not one for combat.” Tom politely declines. “Besides, I would not want to intrude.” 

“It would not be a problem and you might not have a choice running around with Harry here,” Sirius replies almost sternly, which makes Harry chuckle a little as the man was already sliding nicely into the role or someone that wants to care for them. He honestly didn’t expect any less from someone that means so much to him. 

“He is a trouble magnet, I am well aware. I trust in my ability to dodge unfriendly spells for when the time comes.” Tom stands up to excuse himself. “Harry, will you need any help in the kitchen?”

Using him as an excuse. Harry should have seen it coming. “Sure, if you could preheat the stove to 425 that would be great.” 

Tom makes his way calmly out but Harry can tell that he doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to seem weak and Harry is not yet willing; he supposes to betray the fact that Tom has very limited Magical ability at the moment. It would be an embarrassment to him and as much as Harry likes to annoy the other, he doesn’t want to sabotage what little good grace they are having at the moment. 

~/*\~

“I am surprised that you want to help cook.” Harry slides into the kitchen, shutting the swinging door behind him. 

Tom folds his arms. “Hardly, I was only using this as a way to talk to you alone.” 

“I figured that was the case.” Harry sighs, sounding more tired than normal. “I suppose that you can help me while we talk.” He moves past him so that he can wash his hands. 

“Of course you would put me to work.” Tom isn’t going to complain too much about having to cook. He can if he wants to, regardless of what Harry says. He is gifted in potions, cooking is much like that he is sure of it. 

“It's good for you.” Harry insists, drying his hands and then starting to get pots out. “I thought that we would make a Cottage pie. You can get the veggie out while I get the meat.” 

Tom washes his hands before Harry complains at him for that and sets to pulling out carrots, potatoes, peas, onions, tomatoes, and celery. He also takes the cutting board out knowing that he will probably be using it as Harry messes around with the other one. 

“Okay, what is it that you wanted to talk about,” Harry places the beef onto the board.

Tom looks to the door and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll cast a charm.” Harry matches his annoyed look. 

“I just wished to ask how long you think that he shall be staying with us, and what the plan is should he not wish to leave us alone.” 

“I am sure that it will not come to that unless you purposely look like a Dark Lord in the making. He will catch up with us and then go have a few adventures of his own now that he is free and has the easy means to travel.” Harry hums. “Sirius is also a good person to have on our side, he doesn’t trust Dumbles this time around and could reconnect with some of his old family members.” 

“So there is our side?” Tom savors that information.

“I am helping you fix your soul Tom.” Harry points the knife in his direction, not maliciously, just casually as if it is a finger that he is wagging at him. “I am not helping with domination plans or any other madness.”

“Of course.” Tom takes the other knife from the block and sets it by where he will be working after he rises everything off. He feels like he is back in the orphanage, of course, they just had him work on potatoes they didn’t keep the children in there long, heaven forbid that they steal a few bites more of something as they were starving. 

“You're hopeful that Narcissa will want something to do with him.” Tom picks the conversation back up. ”It could be yet another reason for them to take an interest in us.”

“I am hopeful that Sirius can bridge more than just the gap between her and himself but for her sister as well. Tonks was a wonderful friend that deserved a lot better.” 

“Wasn’t Andromeda disowned for marrying a Muggle.” Tom does his best to keep his voice polite but Harry never would be one to fall for it.”

“She was.” Harry pauses in his cutting. “But family is something that I think that we all need in the times to come. If you are not the one to take on the Ministry as the next Dark Lord that rises, there will be another. The country is weak in leadership and we are just waiting for another person to take up the role. This time I think the games will be played politically. You took advantage of the loss of Grindelwald and someone will cash in where Voldemort failed.” 

“And that is what I intend to use.” Tom agreed with Harry’s assessment. He could see the people on the Wizardmort and they were old, a new generation was ripe to take the spotlight, and whether they followed the old ways or some combination of the new was uncertain. But Tom was not foolish enough to believe that whoever was in charge would consider the Muggles to be a real threat. 

Harry nods. “I am sure.” 

“I need my magic first and then other fake documents other than those that prove I exist.” Tom finishes slicing the vegetables and uses the knife's flat edge to push them into the waiting mixing bowl. “I need a fake education and Dumbles will want your paperwork as well.” 

“I have a tutor in mind to pose as our instructor, Death can look human enough in that sort of setting if an appearance is needed. I will just have to make it worth his while to want to be involved. I can get the documents assembled through a few of my more shady connections.”

“Are you not the master of Death, can’t you just order him to play the role?” Tom watches Harry peel the potatoes. 

“Death doesn’t like to be controlled.” Harry pauses in his work. “He will follow the orders to the Tee. He will thus be less predictable, and more abnormal on purpose to draw up the entertainment for himself. I know him well enough. No its better to just entice him to go along with what you want.” 

“So you manipulate him.” Tom smiles as once again Harry’s Slytherin is showing. 

“More like he lets me.” Harry agreed. 

~/*\~

Dinner was a rather strange and quiet event. Sirius had to battle the cats as Tom and Harry were used to protecting their food from attacks. They did not have a problem. Voldie managed to take a good chunk of Sirius's roll and run off with it. Garfield managed to sip his wine, and Moon Moon just watched his every move with dead eyes. 

It all went decently well, Harry was satisfied with his day and as he got ready for bed he noticed that there was a small piece of parchment in his pocket. A note from a familiar potions professor, Harry would recognize the handwriting anywhere as the man would always write all over his essays. 

Great… 

He would read that in the morning, whatever it was could wait he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if the cats hate Sirius because he is a dog? Oh well, I am sure that he will get used to them. 
> 
> See you all soon, stay safe out there. (´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	10. GodFatherly Love and Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom gets used to having to share space with someone other than Harry, and Harry deals with the fact that he wants to call Tom his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we're getting to about the halfway point of the story!
> 
> Feels quite magical. 
> 
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

_Potter, be weary of unfriendly spells. The Headmaster as you are aware is not what he seems nor is he your friend. He has plans to place hard to remove traces on your person and monitor your activity. In particular who you choose to associate and ally yourself with. Be cautious of those that you draw close to you. Dumbledore might be paranoid but the Dark Lords followers are stirring their marks more vivid and alive. I shall be in touch again when I am able._

Harry scans the note over once more and then runs his wand over it. There are no traces on the letter for tracking but now he is uncertain about his person. He takes the note with him as he goes to breakfast. He can start plans for the day with this. They need to go to town soon anyway as Sirius needs a new wand. Harry doesn’t want to give him one of the second-hand ones that he has littering the library. It seems unfair. 

He starts with brewing coffee as he knows that Sirius prefers that over tea in the morning and he then starts tea for himself and Tom. Tom is no doubt making it to the bathroom right about now to make himself look presentable. They look a bit more alike when the other doesn’t attempt to tame his hair. Harry almost wonders if it is because they have a very distant ancestry, as one brother’s family had been passing down the ring and the other the cloak. But it might also just be pure coincidence. 

His glasses fog a little by the steam that comes from his teapot. He wipes them on the cuff of his shirt and at least they are cleaner now, he might need to make another eye appointment. He was getting pretty used to these and dependent on them. He figured that he could get his eyes fixed with magical potions and corrective spells, but he doesn’t really want anyone to be messing with something so sensitive. The idea that something could go wrong and he could lose his vision no matter the slim chance was just something that was so his life that it would happen. 

He sets the table with a wand wave, Kreacher was creeping out of his small closet that Harry had insisted that he take for a room. He had enchanted a little furniture for the room, he was careful not to make it seem like a gift to offend or accidentally free him. Kreacher would probably kill himself before he wanted to work in Hogwarts full time. 

Tom beats Sirius downstairs and sits doing nothing but holding his face. He has slight bags under his eyes and even with his hair mostly under control, there is slightly less effort that seems to have been put into it and the clothes that he had picked out. Looking at him reminds Harry that they needed to go shopping for newer things. Most of the things they had were from Sirius and his brothers' days and it would be nice to get some newer things. They could have their own sense of style and normality then. 

Well whatever sort of normalcy that was possible with who they were and the sins that were on their hands. Harry isn’t sure how long Tom intends to stay, and he doesn’t know how long he had expected him to stay. It would be very strange if he no longer was able to see things like this. The house would be empty again, and Harry feels a little bit of dread at the thought. 

He finishes the tea as Kreacher starts to move pots and pans out of the way. 

“You actually look awful didn’t you sleep?” Harry shakes his head passing the teapot over to him. “Like at all?”

“Your godfather snores.” Toms rubs at his face, “Worse than any I have heard before and we both used to live in the Hogwarts dorms.” 

Harry had not noticed but then he was a heavy sleeper not as much as Ron but if he really was tired Harry knew it was like he had been knocked out he was not going to wake. Living with the Dursleys he could always hear Dudley and Vernon from the second bedroom. He had liked the sound only because he knew they were not coming to bother him as long as he could hear it when he was awake and when he slept it just was like background noise. 

Tom was a light sleeper and perhaps that was because he knew that there would have been a lot of people out to kill him for the things he had done. He woke with simple footsteps and even if the cats moved wrong on the wooden floors. Harry had seen him jerk awake before in the library and magic fizzle around them. He wondered if they would be hexes should the other get his magic back. 

“I’ll cast some muffling charms for you tonight.” He promises. He doesn’t know what a Tom that has not had enough sleep was like and he didn’t want to find out. He probably would be more grumpy than normal.

“Thanks...” The tired man mutters, starting to drink his tea and waits for Kreacher to start making some food. Harry asked for a full English breakfast as a way to welcome Sirius home and was a bit relieved not to be the one cooking. He’s still a bit sleepy even if it’s not horribly so.

Kreacher moves around the kitchen with quiet feet and Harry orders the cats to stay out of his way. They are lucky that Loki is probably still in Tom’s room. And that Sirius is not yet downstairs to witness Harry’s control over the beasts. It would bring questions to mind Harry did not wish to answer. Death so far was good enough not to show his face. Harry knows though if he brings up the tutoring that he will want to make some sort of flashy display in front of Sirius to see how he reacts. 

Tom finishes his first cup of tea before pouring himself another. He still looks awful but isn’t balancing his head in his hands anymore which Harry takes to be a good sign. 

Sirius comes down refreshed and looks a bit heather than he did the previous day. He sits himself down quickly at one of the open spots next to Tom as that puts him across from Harry. He helps himself to the coffee. He seems to savor the feeling of the warm cup in his hands before he takes a sip.

He hums a second at the taste before launching into a conversation. “So you're both on summer break right? No plans for tutoring or anything over the holidays?”

The way that he brings that up out of the blue is a bit surprising and a little suspicious if anything. He can tell that his godfather has some sort of idea in his head. It’s probably nothing bad, just a way to start getting to know them and having a bit of fun. Fun that had been denied to him for the past 13 years and would have still been withheld from him in the other timeline. 

“No.” Harry says carefully after glancing at Tom who seemed to be still slightly out of it as they had a schedule and Tom was dependent on his few hours. He seemed to be slowly waking though. “Why?”

“Well, your birthday is coming up Harry. Not everyday a young man turns 14.” Sirius wants to celebrate it, Harry can tell. He isn’t really used to celebrating it. When he was with the Dursleys they never gave the day more than a thought. Never did they say Happy Birthday. His birth was something that had cursed them. 

Tom knows that it’s coming up, of course, he shows no bit of surprise over it. Just nods along expecting this to take a normal course of things. “Yes 14.” Tom repeats, “An important one for sure.”

Harry coughs, “there is no need to make a big deal of it.” 

Especially because he is nowhere near 14 he is now nearing 32 mentally wise at least. He glares at Tom who seems to not be tired enough to not mess with him a little bit. He's smiling slightly that smile and Harry kicks him under the table. Tom doesn’t do much more than smile a little more sharply. 

“Nonsense you have 13 years worth of gifts that I owe you.”

“That's not really necessary Sirius…” He is starting to feel rather embarrassed by all this. He doesn’t want it to be a big deal. He is not used to it nor does he want it to be turned into something crowded.

“Harry, what is the point of having money if you don’t spend it? We’re only alive once and we should make the most of it.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair. “What do you have in mind?

“I noticed the amount of quidditch books and equipment. I thought it would be fun to see one of the teams travel through the rest of the summer. We can take the weekend then in the locations they are playing.” 

It sounds like wicked fun. Fun Harry had not had in forever and he knows that his face must have lit up with the idea of one spending time with Sirius that he never had before and two going to crazy matches and the after-parties that were thrown. Tom doesn’t look very in love with the idea. Harry didn’t expect him to be. Unlike Ron who would've been jealous over the invite to go somewhere that he wasn’t invited to, Tom’s just annoyed at the idea of quidditch and perhaps the fact that Harry will be leaving him there. It’s like the locket all over again. 

Sirius elbows, Tom for his long face. “You are invited of course as well Marvolo.” 

Talk becomes of Quidditch and the teams that Harry particularly likes, and the position that he always wanted to play. Tom knows that Harry is good at it based on their talks and he doesn’t talk much about teams and such because he is not as knowledgeable in the subject. He makes it clear that he knows that flying and playing takes skill, but the issue that he has is with the way that it is won. 

The snitch is the only thing that is important and everything else at that point is near worthless as it's mostly a contest of who can spot a fast-moving object and catch it first. Everything else is just clutter as the beaters aren’t supposed to aim purposely to knock others off their brooms or injure them. 

Harry argues that it doesn’t matter, it's just fun to watch and play. Tom again argues the part of fun involved. 

Sirius just laughs at them as it gets a little more heated. If only he knew that it was Voldemort sitting next to him arguing about sports of all things. It would make the situation even more comical in that ironic sort of way. No one would have expected such childish behavior from someone Tom’s actual age.

“I don’t think you know what fun is.” Harry finally gives up. 

“I know what fun is, we just have very different ideas of it.” Tom folds his arms. “Your idea of it is foolishness and mine is more based in learning something.” 

Yes, so why does Harry think Tom's version involves getting information out of someone and playing mind games, or learning some sort of destructive spell and practicing it on something or someone.

“It's good to be foolish sometimes Tom.” Harry points his fork that has the last bit of sausage on it at him. “You take everything seriously.” 

Harry wonders if it was just the generation Tom was part of or if it was his childhood that makes him so reluctant to try and do anything remotely childish on purpose.

“I do not.” Tom gestures with his right hand. “I just don’t like the same things that you do. If you are going to go parading around the countryside for the rest of the summer you can leave me out of it.” 

“Come to at least one for me.” Harry offers, if it's not fun even in the slightest, I won’t ask you to come to another.”

~/*\~

He is growing tired of this conversation, far faster than perhaps that he would get should he have gotten enough sleep. Tom looks at him blankly, and Harry looks at him as if to say I already gave you a body, wand, and place to stay for a gift. 

He breathes slowly out of his nose as he doesn’t want to make a big scene as there is nothing to be too annoyed about. It has to be the lack of sleep, and way to release the emotions that he desperately needs. Before it had been easy, he could enter a dual and just hex all the anger out and blast targets. He could gut enemy and useless followers alike. But now he has to just breathe and maybe go for a walk. He is still no closer to getting the diary back and all that Harry’s godfather is here for is to be a distraction. 

It makes everything all the more aggravating because if he brings such a thing up as it is only day one of the man staying with them. It will put him at odds with Harry all over again for what probably will be the foreseeable future. 

“You are being ridiculous.” Tom scowls deeply. “Just because it's going to be your birthday doesn’t mean that I have to do something I know that I will not like.” 

Harry sighs. “Fine, be that way. I will remember this when it comes to your birthday.”

“When is his?” Sirius asks as if only to take note when he needs to send a card or something. Tom could care less. The only reason that this man is being civil to him, despite his reaction to his ‘fathers’ name was purely because he seemed close to Harry. In a way he was. But that could change if he were to try and drive Sirius away faster than what the other planned. 

“Yule,” Harry responds easily. “The last night of it in fact the 31st.” 

“A very magical Birthday.” Sirius nods along as if he cares. Tom grips a little harder at his teacup. 

Breakfast ends with tea and another round of coffee. For Tom, he is on what must be his fifth cup as it is all that is keeping him sane as Harry keeps dragging him into conversation so that he can not retreat tactfully to his room. 

“Anyway, I was hoping that we could go to Diagon Alley today. I received this note” Harry pulled out something small and folded. It doesn’t seem magical in any way just parchment which is a good thing because the seal has been opened. “It is from a friend, and I have every right to believe him that an old man has placed some tracking spells onto my being.”

Harry turns the note so that they can look at the wording. Tom does his very best not to snatch it from Black that seems to have been as out of practice with hygiene as he was reading. He is slow and Tom doesn’t like having to look over someone's fat head and through their long hair. The handwriting looks familiar and it clicks where he has seen it, Severus. Yes, his old follower was warning Harry. Harry called him friend… so he must have been on his side in the end. Not exactly something that he wants to hear, but something that he should keep in mind. 

“Gringotts goblins could break any enchantments. They are known for curse-breaking.” Sirius wisely suggests. “They don’t do anything for free, but I reckon that we can give them a bit of gold to do it, quickly without an appointment.”

“That is what I was thinking.” Harry agrees. “I want to do this quickly and vocally. If the old man wants to worry about what I do and who I spend time with he can do it from a prison cell.”

Tom, despite the agitation of how the morning has started, has really come to life with the idea of putting Dumbledore into a padded cell somewhere. It would be best if it was Azkaban but he would take another sort if he must. 

“You could make a very vocal complaint while we're at the Bank and I can claim my lordships, or at least the funds from them while we are there,” Tom suggests smoothly as he is going to get as much as he can out of this. He hates having to ask Harry to be picked up and dropped off places. He longs for the freedom that fixing his fractured soul somehow would mend. 

“I also thought that we could get some robe fittings done as we now have access to funds that we did not have before as the headmaster had put blocks onto my accounts. He no longer should have access and I wish to fix that aspect if it isn’t so.” Harry has whisked away his dishes and teacup. “We have been using your old clothes and a few that I roughly fitted with my own magic. I think it would be a good idea to get something more up to date.” 

Tom can not agree more, if they plan to make their rounds in the social world they needed to fit into the modern era better. Be more in tune with what people were talking about what they were wearing and what they found charming. Tom had known all these things and known them well when he had been on his rise before he had all the support that he needed and financial backing. He at least once again had looks on his side and a very good standing to start with being close or assumed to be close with Harry. 

“I could use some new robes.” He lets it be known that he agrees with the decision. 

“I shall get dressed then.” Sirius looks like he is just happy with the idea of getting out of the house and doing something productive even if things are going to be a circus for any that see them. 

Harry waits until Sirius has left the room to cast a muffling charm. 

“While we are out, I need to make a few stops for our false papers. I will need you to distract Sirius for a minimum of an hour.” Harry glances towards the hall and then back at him. 

“I know nothing about your godfather other than he is very protective of you already. It's in his posture and his willingness to jump onto any idea that you have.” Tom starts to think of the best options, the best way to handle it. 

“You’re you so I know that you will think of something.” Harry stood. 

“I already have a solid idea.” Tom sighed, “he wants to spoil you for your birthday so if you tell him you need to run somewhere for a meeting of some kind, I can distract him with that.”

It will just kill all the will he has to live while it is happening. Tom is sure that the ‘older’ man was just going to grill him on what he knew about Harry and his intentions and whatever else there was he wanted to know the second that they were alone together. But nothing plan wise would pan out if he didn’t have something to prove his new allies had a good education. 

Harry grins. “Make sure you emphasize that it has to be perfect if I were Sirus I would just grab the best broom there was and buy that. You should also act like you're looking for something for me.” 

Tom huffed. “You assume that I will be giving you anything for your what is it 32nd?” 

Harry snorts. “I know that you will get me something, if not just for appearances. I already picked yours out ages ago. Even if it is over half a year in advance.”

That leaves a bitter taste in his mouth at first because it cements that he needs to give the brat something and then a slight thrill that he had not felt in a while as it probably would be something good. 

~/*\~

Everyone wants to get a peek at the Boy-who-lived, his now free Godfather, and his rumored Lover Marvolo Tomas Gaunt. It’s aggravating as there are things to get done. Harry though does his best with the hand that he has been given. Tom plays into it at every move and gains his titles properly, signing over them with the papers that prove he is who he said that he is. He gets the house rings, and what little has been set aside by the name Tom Riddle, and Guants. 

While all that is settled Harry has the Goblin’s break the newly placed tracking spell that is to Dumbledore’s credit very, very well done. It was not identifiable under most charms that were meant to catch that sort of thing. Lucky Goblins were smart creatures and Dumbledore had underestimated Harry’s ability to make sure that he himself and others were secure and safe. He also underestimated his will to accomplish things. Harry had full intent to live as normal a life as was possible and away from all the things that his name was attached to. 

Robe shopping with Tom was something that was far more drawn out of an ordeal that Harry thought that it would be. Sure he had known that Tom liked things that looked nice, had a taste for things that he never could have had until he had risen to a Dark Lord, but Harry was used to Voldemort being barefoot and wearing the same plain-looking black robe more often than not he didn’t think that Tom would be so picky about fabric. Still, if anything Harry had should have expected Tom to attempt to dictate what he wore as well, but he hadn’t. Tom liked to control things, so why would the clothes that Harry wore be any different. At least he could say no to some of the ideas while allowing the others. Tom did have a keen eye and some things he picked would look better on him than anything that Harry would have picked himself. If he was going to be influential and change things or be able to get people off his back that went snooping, clothes and looking like he was untouchable probably was a good first step. Pressing changers like he was debating to against Dumbledore, was another. 

The designer and tailor on staff at the robe shop were cooing at Tom’s want to dress him, which made the thing a bit worse. It was a constant bombardment with your partner really knows your colors, and he is so sweet, you're both so cute… It felt like it would never end. Tom was smug about the whole thing, his eye only twitching a few times, momentarily, at the mention of cute and him in the same sentence. He was laying on the charm thick though and it got them things for a lot cheaper than Harry ever would have thought all the things they bought would be worth. Sirius paid for it all despite Harry’s protests about having his own coin. 

His Godfather did look a lot better in the clothes that Tom had selected him and Harry wondered if Sirius really bought that they were not more than friends… with the way that Tom was hovering around him.

Friends. He was thinking of Tom as his friend. 

He was glad when it came time for him to slip off and Tom to be a distraction because the idea was just insane. He was friends with Voldemort, the person that had killed hundreds, that had killed his parents, that wanted to control the Wizarding World, and hated all Muggles. 

It felt impossible. He resented a lot of Voldemort. What he was, what he stood for. Harry hated it all down to his very core. He hated the injustice that was caused by Voldemort’s attempt at supremacy. He hated the bigotry that was forced forward at everyone and the divides that were created, and the sides that would never wish to mend or come together ever again, even if it was needed. 

But it was hard… so hard to think of the Tom that he had food with every day, talked with, and made jokes with, was even nearly the same person as the monster that had done so many dangerous, and heinous acts. 

It was hard sometimes to picture someone that has such a pretty face, and nice warm seeming smile, the same one that was trying to choke him nearly 7 months ago. It was even harder to picture the Tom that had terrorized him in the chamber of secrets as the same one that smooshed Loki’s face gently when he thought that no one was looking or left out things that would be convenient for Harry to get to work on the things that he needed to. Tom could be kind, he could do things that were good without an alternative motive if he wanted to. He could be so much more than the thing that he had started to create by one wrong choice, one dangerous choice after another. He had done rituals and dark magic to the point that his soul was tainted to the very last bit of it that was left from all his cleaving and severing of it.

Harry has seen what he wants to be, his capability for blood. But even with that at least, the very least Tom seems to be understanding the feelings of others. He can maybe pity or sympathize but he can not emphasize or feel remorse. Harry can sometimes see it in the faces that Tom makes when his mask breaks for a few seconds. He can read it in his eyes, he can feel it in their bond. Tom can not regret, but he can understand. He can understand that he has hurt Harry, he backs away from it. Harry has seen him flinch at the idea of it once or twice. It can't all be fake, and if it is then Tom is the best liar that Harry has ever met. And he doesn’t know if it would change anything. He always assumes that there is some truth to what Tom says, but never the full truth. 

Voldemort and Marvolo ‘Tom’ Gaunt are his names, they seem different. And yet they are the same person. They are the night and day difference that Tom is to the Voldemort that he had known. And he can not help himself; he wants to be friends. He desires that closeness, the banter, and the savagery. Because they are alive in their arguments that are sometimes powerful enough to break objects or scare the cats around them. They are close when talking about what magic that they have learned. He likes the way that Tom’s magic fizzles in the air and colorful sparks can be seen even if it makes the other aggravated. He would be lonely without Tom. His life has been connected with him for the last 3 years more than anything suggested from his previous life and it shows no signs of stopping any time soon. 

He doesn’t know what he would do if he wasn’t keeping tabs on the other. He doesn’t know what he will do with himself should Tom turn again to the monster that he has seen him. It boils back down to that thought that he had long ago before he had brought Tom back to life. What did he do when it was over? What did he want? As weird and crazy as it was, he was unsure if he ever wanted it to be over. He liked the simplicity of what they had and what could be gained over time. Tom and him could push each other that way. They could fight, they could grow into better wizards, and in Tom’s case a slightly better person. Tom could teach him things and vice versa. Harry wouldn’t mind discussing the things he has learned about souls and magic with someone other than death. 

It sounds stupid even in his own head as he takes the aging potion and pretends once more to be Harrison Morte. Even if they were to become friends. Tom was too ambitious and in need to climb to stay where he was with Harry. Tom was not built for simplicity, he could not be happy with the way things were. And years from now when there was no longer a soul shard in him. There was no guarantee that they would still be close in any way. Tom was only staying with him now because he felt he had to at the moment. When he had Magic everything would be different. It was the real test to this friendship or whatever this was Harry supposed, what Tom would do with the power he gained. What true freedom allowed for him to do and act. 

~/*\~

“I think that he would like a better broom.” Sirius had ignored the perfect gift idea that Tom had tried to layout. “If he's anything like his father on one, he is going to want the fastest, best model there is.” 

And Tom can’t say are you sure about that? Because he knows for damn sure that Harry wanted a Firebolt again as he had owned one and thought that it had been the finest broom that he had ever ridden. So he just makes sure that he stalls the seller, by asking about schematics on the different brooms and for comparisons in maneuverability, control, speed, and safety. Sirius looks like he is bored out of his mind with Tom’s need to check everything including insurance on the damn thing. 

Harry owed him for this. It is all that he keeps telling himself over and over as he has the thing wrapped for them and then shrunk so Sirius can stash it somewhere when they get home. 

“What is it you want to get my Godson,” Sirius asks as they exit the broom shop. 

Tom doesn’t have much gold, he has drawn out some of the remaining funds that he had in his accounts. He knows a few things about gift-giving as he had always used them as ways to elevate himself with Pureblood families things that were cheap unbeknownst to the receiver and were impressive. Usually, he created something with his magic, such as jewelry or flowers that never died, or enchanted fish in cute little bowls. He had made a few birds for Parkinson when she showed slight interest in him so that he could get close enough to her to steal from her personal library. 

This is different though, as Harry is someone that he is decently fond of. One that is a true asset and should be rewarded as such.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “The broom and repair kit was really all that I could think of that he would truly want.” He thinks of what he knows about Harry. He is hard to pin down, but he knows that the boy who lived is compassionate, forgiving, brave, stubborn, and humble. He doesn’t want much nor does he expect much. 

“It will come to you.” Sirius puts his hand on his shoulder. “It’s hard sometimes to give people that we care for things. I used to struggle to gift James, Remus, and Peter anything.” Peter is said with a slight bit of resentment in more than the rest of the hidden emotions that are present in that small sentence. “I didn’t have funds after the family disowned me. I usually ended up making botched gifts by hand or magic. It always was good for a laugh thought the way that Moony would get excited over even a half unraveled scarf that I created.”

Tom wished that he could say that he felt anything for the other at that moment but he can't. He can’t feel much of anything other than not wanting the other to touch him. He didn’t really like touch unless it was Harry’s as the bond made it slightly more bearable and only if he was the one that initiated it. 

“Harry is fond of books, cats, and flying.” Tom took a small step forward so that he could pull out of the hold that was on him. He made it seem like the only reason that he moved was so that he could lean against the wall. “He has nearly every book that one could want in his personal library and artifact room.”

Sirius nodded because he knew that to be true, Tom was sure that he had seen the horde that Harry had accumulated. Tom brushed the locket thinking. 

“We don’t need any more cats.” He adds as an afterthought because he doesn't think that he could stand dodging anymore of them than he already does. 

Sirius huffs at that one. “He has four too many in my taste.” 

Tom knows the feeling of Voldie being out to get him with his claws, Sirius had temporarily gained the cat's attention as a new target to play pet me and then scratch at the opportunity of fingers nearby. 

“And we covered Flying and Quididch well.” Tom fiddles with the locket clasp. He is becoming more and more annoyed with himself over this. It should be easy. Pick something and hand it over wrapped. It's not like it has to mean anything. 

He really wants to hex someone to take his mind off of this whole mess, but he is supposed to be stalling. 

Slytherin save him. 

He cared about what he gave Harry for some reason beyond him. He didn’t want to fuck up something that would and should be simple. Harry is a mix of gray, jagged edges, that he doesn’t know how to piece together yet. He isn’t sure that if he does manage to get it together that he will like the picture that it paints. 

He knows some things about Harry. He knows that he is the master of Death, a title that he cares little for other than the fact that he likes the entity that he can converse regularly with. Harry came from a broken place like him where abuse was frequent, even if Harry doesn’t admit what it was. Tom has seen the tiny room that he was stuffed in once in a dream that they seemed to share. He knows that Harry likes to read, but gets restless when he forces himself to study, so he takes breaks to clean random things and walk around the house or just outside of it around the block a few times. He has a few fakes smiles that he uses, and when he is stressed he runs his hand through his hair almost obsessively. 

None of these observations have real power over him or give insight to a gift. 

He tightens his grip on his soul shards, if he could somehow mend these stupid things and take the one out of Harry it would have been the best gift possible for both their sakes. They would both be free of this mess. But that is not possible, he is not sure that it will ever be possible, knowing his luck. The only good things that happened to him are the ones that he forces and even then those tended to break some how and some way. Usually spectacularly… like the chamber of secrets, trying to kill his prophesied killer as an infant, were just to name a few. 

He feels his magic fizzle as he scowls. “We should get you a wand while I try to figure out what to get him. If you want to spare with Harry you’ll need one.” 

Tom won’t admit that he is interested in seeing how the other fought. He could not kill Harry nor had he succeeded in the previous timeline, but it would be interesting to see the other and their fighting style. 

Sirius got his wand and talked at length about how Olivander had seen a James look-alike running around Diagon alley from time to time. He had been certain that it had to be of at least relation to the Potters when he had seen the papers. 

Sirius obliged him, but Tom could tell that he was slightly uneasy about the whole thing. While looking at wands and being bored, his mind wandered and an idea came to him, though he is not sure that Harry would like it. It was better than nothing and it wouldn’t take that long to compile. 

~/*\~

Sirius nodded in approval of the gift idea that Tom had. It was rather thoughtful and practical. While a broom would be for fun, a correct wand holder that was well made would serve Harry well should he find himself in need of defending himself. 

This day had allowed for him to better see the person that was so very tangled in his Godson’s life. Sirius would not claim to be the best at noticing intentions, but he could read emotions just fine. And the young man that was before him was someone that was quick in temper, quick in wit, and versed in making his words twist to whatever it was he thought that the person he was talking to wanted to hear. 

It was difficult to really get an accurate feeling for a person that was seated behind such a thick mask. But he did see that he did seem to genuinely have a small soft spot for Harry, it was in his eyes. The way that they drifted to him. The way that he listened to every word the other said as if he was hung up on it. Sirius felt like he had stepped in as a roadblock to whatever was to occur between them. 

Harry and Tom are pulled to each other, whether it be for a good reason or not. He has not decided. Sirius isn’t sure that Marvolo wishes to hurt Harry. Someone that actually looks so aggravated and lets that perfect seeming part crumbles at the idea of failing at a gift can not be all bad. 

But there is a glint of something in the brown eyes that Sirius would be lying to say he did not find chilling. It was almost like Tom looked through people, all except Harry. Everyone seemed like annoyances or something to throw charm at. The only real thing to the young man might have been what he showed in flashes when he was with his Godson. He had seen the way Tom had leaned closer to hear Harry better, how they whispered something that could not be heard, like a plan he was not meant to hear. 

~/*\~

The next few days go well. Sirius had a wand from Olivander and they have decided to try it out. They had to of course travel to one of the other black homes that had a yard to it. Tom took to sitting on the brick patio on the back of the house as Harry took a stance on the other side of his Godfather. Tom could pretend to be reading all he liked to avoid being pulled into the practice fight, Harry felt his eyes on him. 

He smiled and waved as he went to stand on the other side of the line in the grass that Sirius had made. Harry had never been part of an actual dueling club. The pathetic excuse for one that Lockheart tried to run could hardly count as much more than an ego boost for a truly despicable person. He bowed like he was supposed to. Raising his wand at the ready. 

There was a quick exchange of spells. Sirius moved out of the way of an expelliarmus, and Harry deflected the hex that would have locked him in place. There were flashes of yellow and blue, that flew out the tips of their wands. Nothing that would be too harmful to use, nothing that could cause lasting damage. Harry would not want that sort of thing. He could not forgive himself if he actually caused Sirius true unfixable pain.

Reflecting on it, as Harry flung another harsh spell against Sirius's shielding charm. This was probably truly the first good fight that he had with anyone since the night of the Hogwarts battle. The flashes blinded him a moment as he spell rebounded and he had to jerk to the side. 

“Flipendo!” 

The spell hit him as he had been distracted and he hit the ground hard. Sirius panting made his way over and reached out and pulled him to his feet. 

“Well fought pup.” The man was very impressed and Harry was not sure that he really should be at this point. As they both were out of practice. 

“Thank you too.” Harry agrees anyway for the fact that he knows that the other can and will get better once he gets back into the swing of things. It's a new wand, Sirius still is recovering with some prescribed potions for his slight malnutrition caused by prison food and eating whatever he could find as a dog. 

They both are far from their best. Tom if he had his magic probably would have been able to fight both of them at once. 

They go again. Harry starts this time with a rapid barrage of offensive spells. He puts himself back into the times that he had to use these types of moves, to fight off pursuing Death Eaters. Sirius responds by only taking the defense momentarily and switching quickly to dipping and moving out of the way while firing unfriendly spells of his own. 

Harry almost steps on a moving form in the grass, that lets out a very surprised hiss. Harry actually manages to dodge its lunge at him and then Sirius’s knockback spell before he is hit again with a Flipendo ends yet again with Harry sprawled out. 

He hisses at the snake to try and get the thing to calm down. Which it is not having, it just hisses and coils tighter into a ball cursing him.

 _Hate… Go away…. I bite…_

The warnings are nothing much more than that. It's not a poisonous one and the worst it can do is bearly break his skin should it actually do what it is threatening. Harry just picks it up and lets it bite him as he puts it in some far off grass and away from where it can cause harm.

“You could have cleared it away with your wand, you have magic for a reason.” Tom has graced him with his presence on the field. 

“It was scared, I wasn’t about to just toss it.” Harry defends his decision, while in his head he thinks that Tom probably was right. 

“You can speak to snakes.” Sirius looked between them. 

“It runs in my family.” Tom answers smoothly. He knew that Harry could as well just for the soul shard that is in him.

“No, I assumed that you could, just not Harry.” Sirius clarifies.

“I have been able to since I was little.” Harry shrugs. “It's a useful trait to have, it has gotten me in and out of places that I should not have been.” 

“It's just unusual is all.” Sirius is already doing his best to collect himself.

“I have been told.” Harry’s smile feels brittle. “But there is nothing wrong with talking with snakes.” 

“Of course not.” Sirius gets offended for him, or perhaps at the idea that someone has told Harry at one point that he should be ashamed. 

“You had best bandage your wound.” Tom interrupts, “It is bleeding pretty well as while it wasn’t poisonous the proteins in its saliva and mouth does help with the clotting process. It should be cleaned first.”

~/*\~

“Worried about me?” Harry smiles at him and Tom has the sudden urge to knock him away from him. He hates when the other does this and does it solely to push on his buttons. He is so childish sometimes, he is bleeding and he thinks now is the time for jokes. Gryffindors really were something else. 

“Hardly.” Tom snips. “Just didn’t think that it is best that you bleed all over your new robes.” 

“I have gotten blood out before.” Harry starts moving anyway towards the house. “It's not that hard to do even without magic.”

“You should just avoid putting yourself into situations that involve the chance entirely.” Tom follows him. “You don’t think, you just do, and it might just be the end of you one day.” 

He feels if there is any way that Harry will end up getting himself killed to the extent that Death can not bring him back, it will because he does something rash. He needs to practice thinking about things where there are near harmless consequences so when the real thing happens he makes the correct choice. 

Harry turns to look at him, there are a couple of things that flicker quickly across his face, and reflect in his eyes. “I am aware of that. You don’t have to remind me.” 

“I do, because who else will, Morte?” Tom insisted, pushing to see what would happen if the look would come back. He doesn’t know what it is, hurt, caution, sadness, or something else. 

“Don’t bring him into this. He probably would relish the chance.” Harry doesn’t bother though with it showing that emotion again. He is back to his normal self it seems. He just turns back around and takes more long strides to the house.

Sirius seems like he has decided to let them have time alone to bicker as he probably would have called it. Which is a good thing for Tom because he would rather use more accurate terms without the worry that others would overhear. He follows Harry to the kitchen and makes sure that he does more than stick some bandages on it. He doesn’t expect Harry to listen to his advice, but he does. Harry holds the hand under the warm water and casts a mending charm over the skin. 

Tom hasn’t seen or heard of that version of a healing spell. 

“It was invented by Severus.” Harry wipes the rest of the blood away from his hand. “When you can use magic again I will teach it to you.” 

“Make sure that you do, it looks useful,” Tom says and then lets the silence hang between them. 

~/*\~

Albus Dumbledore looks at the papers that have been printed in the last month. There are pictures of a young Harry Potter walking around with someone that has to be Tom Riddle. He doesn’t buy that the young man is anything else but a disguise. The documents that he has been able to secure before he was slapped with a restraining order from Potter regarding the tracing charms that he had placed on him, were very convincing though. They had everything, even a blood sample that did share some of Voldemort's magical signature, but a trace of something else that was similar to Harry’s blood. Not exactly the same, but this indeed was troubling. He doubted that anyone had checked into this but himself and so he tasks himself with trying to discover what exactly this means. 

He knows that Voldemort’s forces had been on what Severus would call stand by as their master seemed to be alive but in hiding and what was a better hiding place than with the chosen one as one of his closest friends, if not more. 

Albus doesn’t want to believe that they are dating, even with the convincing looking pictures slapped all over Witches Weekly. No matter what Dumbledore holds some truths close to him. Tom Riddle can not feel love, he was conceived under a love potion and there is no part of him that is able to grasp the concept or need for such an emotion. Tom Riddle can not care for another person as he has never had any friends, only followers, and those that he intended to use until their usefulness ended. 

So despite what others would say. He knows that this guise that Voldemort is wearing is all that it is, a disguise. The mask would crumple and he needed to be prepared for when it was, even if the Chosen One would not be a willing ally in this endeavor. All that Dumbledore had to do was truly prove to Harry who the person that he seemed to care for was capable of, what he truly was, a monster. The question was which buttons he needed to press would expose him. 

This trick had to be a solid one or people would think him mad. They already were throwing a lot of accusations his way in regards to Potter already. His credibility had been damaged by a 14-year old that was blind to the need for the greater good and need for a better education. 

He could care less who this Mutuwa Morte was; he was sure that they did not have the same qualifications as his staff, nor could provide the true guidance needed to defeat the Dark Lord especially if he was posing as one of the best students that they ever had. Albus paced his office, yes he really needed a truly extreme and careful plan to make up for lost time, and for the danger that the boy truly could be in. 

~/*\~

With the end of summer approaching, and the more frequent visits out of their home. The media picks up on where they live and so owls come and so does the endless letters. There is one that stands out that comes addressed to Harry Potter from the Malfoys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super excited for the next chapter that I just plowed through this one. Probably will power through the next one as well. I hope to have it up in the next few days if all goes smoothly. 
> 
> I really am thankful for all the comments and love that this fic has gotten. 
> 
> I will see you all soon. ( ^▽^)


	11. Dragonflies and Butterflies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry get closer than either of them expect while trying to get the last of Tom's soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonflies are ruthless predators that often bite the wings of butterflies so that they can not fly away from them before devouring them whole.

The Malfoys had a large party at the end of the summer for charity. Harry was pretty sure that it was purely to look good and not because someone like Lucius Malfoy gave a rat's ass about the poor and most in need Wizards and Witches of the world. Harry was pretty sure that Malfoy would have scuffed at the sight of a beggar or kicked them away if no one important was watching. 

Harry though was not letting the chance slip to get the Diary. He knew the more of a soul that Tom had the better. He in no way believed that having full contact with his soul would help Tom become a flawless or good person, but it certainly couldn’t hurt for him to be able to feel more. He was making strides with half a soul as it was. So they made sure that it was known that they wanted to attend together. And Even if he didn’t seem interested in going Sirius had agreed to go simply because Tom and Harry wanted to go. He was not sure who he would bring as his plus one, as he didn’t really have many friends left after the First Wizarding War or imprisonment.

Tom seemed like he would have been fine if Sirius did not come or find a companion. Harry had not failed to notice the way that Tom doesn’t particularly get along with him. Then again, Harry has not really seen Tom get along with anyone truly without faking most of the facial expressions. 

Sirius was giving Tom a strange look when he insisted that Harry learn how to dance properly for it. He left as there was definitely going to be an argument about Manners and such. He probably was going to see if there was any possibility of meeting up again with someone that he wouldn’t mind dragging with him to what probably would not at all be exciting for him. 

Harry knew that it would probably be about as fun for him as the Yule Ball had been sitting next to Ron except for this time it would not be his former best friend that he was listening to complaining about things it would be Voldemort or rather Tom. And Harry had a feeling that he would be swept into a lot of conversations that he would not want to spare the brainpower to keep up with. He didn’t think any of it would be exciting except getting the book itself. 

Harry had grown almost to crave some sort of adventure again when he was faced with something that would be that dull. Funny that he would rather fight a dragon or an army of Death Eaters than be stuck listening to Draco or his father trying to rub elbows with him and get on his good side. He was convinced that Tom must have hated him to suggest that he find his radio and put something on that could be danced old fashioned to. 

“I really don't want to do this.” Harry set the thing onto the mantle by the fireplace. 

“If we are going to meet people and network you need to know how to dance,” Tom argued. “You can not simply stand there like a fool when there are those that will want to take you onto the floor.” 

“Like yourself.” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“If we are to keep up appearances like the ones we have made in public so far, then yes. But I will not dance with you if you're going to flounder around. Any partner of mine must match my skills.” 

“And you are the embodiment of this grace and elegance that you want us to portray?” Harry folded his arms, not buying it.

“I am a very gifted dancer, all that you have to do is learn how to let me lead you.” 

“That is really going to go well if a girl or anyone else asks me to dance.” Harry sighed deeply remembering stepping on his unfortunate date to the ball. He looking back on it feels incredibly young and stupid, for not practicing nearly as much as he should have.

“If you have that much issue with it, deny it because you don’t wish to upset me.” Tom brushes his concern away. 

“That just sounds like you own me.” Harry scowled at the idea.

“I was just saying to use me as an excuse, you tend to do that usually pretty well.” Tom smiles at him taking a step forward as another tune comes on. “Most Purebloods that are promised to each other check with their partners before agreeing to a dance anyway. It's a tradition that they would understand.”

“This keeps getting better and better. I should have batted you away at the ministry and told them you were my business partner or something.” 

“But then you would have missed Dumbledore’s priceless expression and I would have missed yours.” 

Tom is far too close for Harry’s liking. It's not exactly that he feels trapped by the slightly larger figure, but mostly because he doesn’t like it when Tom does these sorts of teases with him. It bothers him for a reason he can not place his finger on and makes his face heat. 

He gains his courage again and stands his ground. “You can teach me to dance if you go to the next Quidditch match with me.” 

“What?” Tom’s face loses the smug look that he had before. 

“You heard me.” Harry uses the small space between them as an advantage. “We’re getting the part of your soul for you, I am going to have to deal with Malfoy for a whole evening, and I will have to put a great deal of work into pulling the shard out of the Diary the least that you can do is go to something for me.”

Tom blinks once or twice at this before the smile is back be it a little more sharp and strained. “I hate Quidditch.” 

“And I hate dancing and people that just want to bombard me with questions about the night that my parents died and the scar on my head.” 

Tom grimaced. “You have made your point.” 

“Good.” Harry starts the song over again. “So how do we do this?” 

Tom takes his hand and pulls him to the center of the room, rather roughly, then helps him to stand up straight. 

He then bows slightly, reminding Harry much of the first time that he had to duel the other. 

“I bow first and extend the offer to you,” Tom repeats the movement and then holds out his hand. “May I have this dance, Lord Potter? Then you would refuse politely if I were anyone else, and to accept you would bow as well and take my hand.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and bows slightly.

“It should be slightly deeper,” Tom instructs.

Harry repeats the motion but deeper this time and takes the extended hand given to him. Tom pulls him closer to him and the few inches that Tom has on him now makes him feel drastically smaller. The one hand that is not in Tom’s goes for his shoulder and Tom puts his on his waist.

Nope.

Harry pulls back. 

This is very uncomfortable, and awkward. 

It's also painful in a way that he is not exactly sure what to make of it. The way the music is, the way it all feels, it's too much of a reminder of his old life. 

“Don’t tell me that the great Gryffindor that has defeated me on a few occasions can not grace me with enough courage to dance for 5 minutes.” Tom was greatly amused, his eyes were even lit up with it. 

“Shut up.” Harry rubs at his face. “It's not easy alright.” 

His face is really burning. He doesn't know if he has ever felt quite as embarrassed as he is now, or this odd feeling before. Tom lets go of him and waits for him to rebrace himself for this. 

“If we are to pull it off to be in a relationship, or close you have to be able to dance at least 3 dances with me,” Tom explains while giving him air. “The second dance will be crucial as one towards the middle of the evening. Act if you must, that it is a game of quidditch or something equally as silly that you need to win. Then move and act accordingly.”

“That is easy for you to say, you're not the one that has some person’s hand on his hip.”

Tom frowns deeply. “I am not just some person.” 

No he knows that. He is the person that killed his parents and tried to kill him on many occasions. And Harry is going to let him hold him like that. It's hard to exactly put it into words, but dancing almost feels intimate, too intimate for a person that he never lets touch more than his hand. Pretending to be in a relationship with Tom is for some reason a lot harder to swallow when they are doing more than just spending some time together. He bites his tongue so that he doesn’t say something that he will regret. 

Tom can clearly sense his shifting moods. His face gets that look as if he is holding back all of the rage that he is feeling and without thinking, Harry grabs him before he can storm off. 

“It's not easy for me to let others touch me. I know that dancing means nothing to you, but I have only danced twice in my life, once because I was forced to for a tournament and had no choice in the matter, and the second was with someone that I thought I loved, someone that I thought I loved so very deeply that all I could think was it was magical to hold her close to me.” Harry tightens his hold on his hand, and Tom’s eyes meet his. 

It's like an old wound has split, he stitches holding him together are ripping apart by the second. Ginny. He has not wanted to think of her. He has pushed past the thought of her and suppressed anything that would drag up the memory of him, holding her that night at the wedding. The night that the Ministry fell and his life was brought back into a new version of hell. He had thought he loved her. He had cared so deeply about her. 

And she had hurt him greatly. So greatly that he considers it to be the worst disappointment and betrayal worse than even Dumbledore as Harry had had some suspicions of the older man’s true face and intentions, but not Ginny. He never would have thought sweet Ginny would have done something like that. 

“Did I…” Tom starts, but then just lets it hang there because he doesn’t know if there is anyone listening or he doesn’t know how to express whatever it is that his face is showing.

“No.” Harry drops his gaze. It was about one of the few things that Tom had nearly nothing to do with, or rather anything that he had to do with it was not his fault. He had not chosen Harry as a vessel for a soul shard, even if he would have relished the idea years ago of causing Harry’s painful death. 

“I was going to marry her.” It comes out of him before he can stop it. The night rushing back to him. “And she killed me with a killing curse. She was scared of me… that's how my old life ended, not in a battle, not to an enemy, but because I thought someone loved me.” 

Harry feels those eyes burning into him, he can feel the heat through their bond, and the way that Tom’s muscles constrict. Tom is very still and Harry feels like he has said too much, something that he can not take back. Its potent silence. He hates the feelings that are in him, he hates how he has the sudden feeling of shame and the ache of the loneliness and sadness that his own death has brought him. The things that could have been, and then the way things that are now. And yet, Tom looks slightly like he is wounded as he hesitantly looks at him. 

But that can not be possible… 

It can not be what that face means. 

“Forget that I said that, in fact, forget about the Quidditch match, and this idea of dancing.” Harry quickly stumbles another sentence out. “We can find another way to get the Diary.” 

~/*\~

Harry’s emotions are bleeding into him. Tom can feel them in their bond. He can feel something odd, aching and he doesn’t like it. He also has never had to really confront someone like this before and so he just makes it known that he has no interest in killing the boy or young man really in front of him. Even if there are some days that he wishes it. Oh does he wish it. 

But Harry is something to him, what he is not entirely sure, but he knows that he is fond of him. Harry cares for him in a way that none have before him. He is not blinded by love or adoration like Bella or any of his followers, he does not hate him as most would on the light even if he disagrees with nearly everything that he fundamentally is and wants. And Harry must trust him, he must trust him if he is giving him this sort of knowledge and trusting him not to use it against him. Tom wants to laugh at him for it. What's to prove him wrong that one should never be open with him like that. Trust him like that. He wants to tell him that he is foolish, but he can not do it. For all that he is, he refuses to be what someone else has been to Harry, he can possibly be better than even what his nature would ask of him to do. 

Because maybe if he were to admit it only to himself… He cares if just a little bit about the boy that is holding his hand tightly. 

“I won’t do what she has done.” Tom doesn’t let him pull away from him, much like Harry had stopped him from doing so moments ago. “I have no intention to kill you, not even if we become on opposing sides. You have my word.” 

Yes, because he is fond of him and because he appreciates the push and pull that Harry is to him. There has never been someone before him that he could not break and there has never been someone that had refused to break so strongly and still tried to help him. 

Harry looks at him with green eyes like Loki's; they are softer than he has seen them before, and it is impossible to take back seeing that look of vulnerability, completely different to any of the other things that he has seen. 

Harry then coughs to clear the air. “Thanks.” 

“We will work on this so that you are not as uncomfortable with it. If you must, you can lead once you get the steps down.” 

The idea of it sickens him because it almost feels like letting someone control him. And Tom would never allow such a thing regardless of the situation. But if he had to act, he had to play some sort of role, that was beneath him he would do it just so he could get his soul back from someone that he never should have given something so important to. 

“No. I think that would make this worse.” Harry nodded his head with seeming more determination than before. “I can’t hold you like that, it would be far weirder. Can we try again?” 

Tom smiles slightly at his resolve never would it be said that Harry was anything but stubborn and the type to press on even with the awful feeling of emotional exposure that is still in the air. 

“Of course, Harry.” He agrees, feeling the warmth that is almost wonderful compared to the cold that he felt moments ago. 

~/*\~

Harry will give Tom credit where it is due. He is a very gifted dancer, light on his feet, and able to move with perfect timing and rhythm. Harry is not that way, he is not coordinated in the way of moving with the flow of things, he usually likes to be in charge of the way that the currents are going, and to change the tide themselves if they are not going the way that he wants them to. He is not passive, and yet that is how it feels to be with Tom in a waltz. He is able to lead and pull someone along with him, in a way that makes him almost forget that he needs to move a certain way. Tom makes it look effortless, and Harry anytime he thinks about anything becomes too distracted to keep time with him. 

It's hard to shut off his brain as he has always been someone that needs to do something at any moment. And the more that he tries to remember the move the more that he steps on Tom’s feet and makes it look like a jumbled mess. And yet somehow, after days of doing this and hours of practice, he can move in time with him. He can almost take control at some moments because he can anticipate where Tom will go with it. 

He gets used to feeling Tom’s slightly cold hands in his and he has no idea if he should be worried about such a thing. The closeness is strange and he doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

~/*\~

The match is the Chudley Cannons vs. Falmouth Falcons. Harry has been to every Chudley Cannons game over the summer with Sirius and as promised Tom does attend this match. He brings a book to read while they are in the private box that Sirius may have or may not have splurged a little on. The former prisoner refuses to feel bad that he has paid a little more for this outing. It would be worth it to watch both the match and his Godson spend time with Tom outside of the home. They lingered too much there then what could be healthy. 

“Pretend to at least be interested.” Harry sighs as they make their way up to their seats. 

“I thought you hate when I pretend to like or care for anything to humor you.” Tom pauses. 

“I mean I do but what will all the papers say when they note that you don’t like a sport that nearly all the world likes?” Harry plays devil's advocate, Sirius notices. 

“That I am willing to do anything to please my partner, even suffer through a match that your precious team will no doubt be slaughtered in.” 

“Come now Marvolo.” Sirius teases, “at least let Harry have his fun in hoping for a different outcome.” 

“He has to be broken out of his delusions now, Sirius.” Tom humors that much is for sure by the way that he is smiling. “Or he will be insufferable at dinner. His team is 3 and 8 for the season.” 

“You have been researching.” Harry accuses. 

“No, I merely looked in the sports section of the paper to see the score sheets.” Tom shrugs. 

The match goes well for Harry’s team up till the end and the seeker misses the snitch. Harry notices it before both teams and complains about it being right there and pointing it out as it dances around the field. Sirius will give his Godson this, even though it is a little annoying the complaints that he makes, he knows that Harry would have a gift for the game. He would be a true pro if his broom skills matched even remotely his keen eye. Sirius notices that Tom might have been reading, but he is focused on what Harry is saying, commenting every once and a while that the only important role is the Seeker as all the other points don’t matter at all. And in the end as annoying as it is the statement Tom is right because making the ball through the hoops was a great thing and all but it was nothing compared to the points from the snitch. Thanks to Tom, Sirius had a feeling that he no longer was the biggest fan of it. 

~/*\~

The date came around for the charity ball. Tom helped Harry pick out clothes that would best be suited for the evening so there was no real surprise when they met each other in the living room for the night. And yet, Tom looked very professional and well handsome. If Tom wanted anyone but Harry tonight to dance with him for appearances or networking then he wouldn’t have the slightest bit of an issue. 

He extended his arm out to Harry that took it even if he would be the one that was operating. Sirius had left a little bit ago, as he had said that he was going to collect someone that he had chosen to go with him. Tom had bet that it would be someone that was picked up from the local tavern that Sirius visited frequently and was magical. Harry had defended that his Godfather would most likely have chosen someone that he at least knew and could make jokes with the whole evening and possibly offend just as many pureblood families as was possible in the few hours that he was there. 

The Malfoy home was just as large and ominous as Harry remembered it. He knew that there were pretty gardens all done precisely for this party and even the peacocks were controlled for it. But there is still a chill to him despite the warm summer air. Tom grips him tighter, it that method of slight comfort that he has picked up is usually enough to get him to focus. They hand off their invitation to the elf minding the gates and are welcomed into the clearing that has been outdone with flowers and crystal tables. The candle lanterns that are giving the dance area and many tables their lights are beyond beautiful. 

He is slightly awestruck at the contrast that he had seen when he was near blind and being dragged up the front lawn. Tom is already making note of their surroundings. They are not meant to bring wands to this sort of event, it is not proper but they were armed regardless. They had a mission, be it a hard one to accomplish with all the witnesses but one that can be successful if they play it correctly. Tom is the one that will be inciting everything and Harry just hopes that he does it correctly. 

“Remember the spell I taught you,” Tom whispers as they get closer to the host and his wife that are greeting and helping to direct people to their seats.

How could Harry forget…

“Lord Potter and Lord Gaunt, so good of you to join us this evening,” Lucius says smoothly sticking out his hand for them to shake. Harry lets go of Tom and shakes the man’s hand first without too many issues. He just has to remind himself mentally that this Lucius is not the one that had released a giant snake on the Hogwarts school children population or the one that insisted that Buckbeak be destroyed. It's easier after that. The second that Tom touches him though. Harry makes sure that Lucius feels his mark and the pain that can be associated with a call. 

To his credit, Malfoy manages to keep his mask in front of the group of people that have formed around them. His eyes though glance towards Harry after he lets go and they flicker back to Tom. He holds his arm as if he is fixing his sleeve, but it is clear that he has felt the slight burning of it. 

“I would be honored to seat you, my Lords.” He gestures for them to follow him leaving his wife to continue to play greeter. 

“Your home is impressive, Lord Malfoy.” Tom makes conversation as they head, towards the far table that has his Godfather and Remus sitting at it. Harry hardly manages to hide his brilliant smile as that would ruin the atmosphere that they are going for. “I am quite taken by the way that you were able to arrange such a get-together.” 

“It was no issue, in the slightest, my wife did most of the invitations.” Malfoy looks at them with a calculating gaze. 

“Ah well give her my compliments on her exquisite penmanship.” Tom just smiles as if he is not bothered in the slightest by the way that Lucius looks like he will do anything to protect his wife while remaining civil. “I do hope that we can talk more later this evening. I have heard great things about you, and would like your input if you can spare the time about the climate of the ministry as I plan on using my Wizardmort seat in the coming months.” 

Tom lets his feet stop when they are near enough to the table. 

“Of course.” Malfoy just manages to sound like he would like that even though his eyes have made it clear at least to Harry that he is very anxious about the action of talking with them. 

~/*\~

Tom watches the man panic as he moves back to his wife, there is nothing that the other can do now without exposing himself. He will meet with him and they will have a chat over the state of his soul shard. If it is up to standard, then Tom will let the other live, as he technically only denounced him in this timeline, however, if it is even remotely harmed he is killing the man regardless of Harry’s protests. However Harry’s protests probably though wouldn’t be that loud, Tom knew things that Lucius had done in the name of his bloodthirst and need for power and approval that even Harry who was used to the ideas of death and torture would probably become squeamish at. The man had earned his title of Death Eater and he had earned it well. 

He is introduced to a slightly shabby-looking man with scars on his face and recognizes them to be that from a werewolf. Sirius had brought a werewolf to the party. 

It becomes clear that this man, Remus, was someone that Harry was close to in his past life, as he takes a liking to him instantly and calms the idiot's feelings over abandoning him and Sirius. Dumbledore had played him like the poor creature that he was. Not that Tom would say such a thing out loud. Not with the way that Harry seems so invested in trying to make up for the lost time. 

He does not like the surge of envy that he feels when he watches Harry interact with the ‘older’ men. It's a comfortability that Tom has never felt from Harry, at least not really. He learns more about Lily and James during this dinner then he ever had from Wormtail. And he can tell that Harry loved them, loves them. He takes the stories and he tells some of the things that he has done in his life so far, he brings up curse breaking and fighting dementors. Which are things that Tom knows about, but the way the stories are told, just flows freely and it is not like the times that he first heard them. He must have shown some sort of discomfort or annoyance because Remus is looking at him with very serious eyes. The werewolf was much better than Sirius it seemed in picking up his moods, and shifts in magic. Tom wishes he had more of his core available. He would have liked to see the way that the other would squirm with the power that he has if it would drown him as it had others around him. Drive the man mad if he was too look into his eyes during that imagined moment. He wonders if he had captured Remus if the man would have been able to resist him, or if he would have failed like Peter. 

It really doesn’t matter though, even if he doesn’t like him. He will not hurt him as he belongs to Harry and there are few things that Tom would do that would place him on Harry’s bad side. 

Dinner ends and Harry and Tom wait for the second dance. He takes Harry with him in front of everyone and they all have been glancing their way, but now they are intently watching. He holds lightly onto Harry’s waist. His heart speeds a little with the thrill that at this moment, in this dance Harry is his to control, that none would bother them. 

He takes them through the simple steps first holding him closer than perhaps he had to.

~/*\~

Harry feels very strong emotions radiating through their bond. He had no idea exactly all of them but they are intense like a fire, that is burning up his hand and through his arm. He feels that flow and follows it, letting the lead be given, and his steps taken. Tom is graceful as ever, and yet at this moment, Harry feels a bit like cornered prey. Where he is trapped and the person that is holding him was the predator that was taking with him far more than the second dance. 

He gains himself as the steps are turned to the more complex steps. He makes it their game, makes it like those days that they had practiced, and that intensity, that simmering seething anger and whatever else was mixed in there, crumbles and is washed away like the tide in the music, as the piano notes become slowly more picked up. There is that push and pull, that give and take, that all good alchemy laws follow. He twists, and he turns, and he shifts his steps and pulls against Tom, letting him feel it as they move as one, one perfect machine. A potion that has the correct ingredients, and a complex spell that is being weaved with each step and line drawn, with the twisting of arms and the bending of backs and legs. They move as if the music carries magic itself and it is alive though them, reaching every limb and every muscle. 

And as the song slows Harry catches his breath and the burning eyes that are looking at him in pride and he lets it be known that he does think they are compatible like this. He smiles reassuringly, that they have nailed it and that none will attempt to interrupt this or any other dance to come. Tom smiles back and presses them through the remaining steps that makes Harry feel as if some sort of trance has been broken as the song’s last notes die. And there is nothing to do but feel the way that there are hands-on him, that there are eyes on him. 

And he feels his face heat up greatly as he can see out of the corner of his eye, Sirius gaping at him like a fish. He pulls just enough away to lead Tom back towards where drinks were being served as they could most likely get something that was not alcoholic and he suddenly feels like he is burning up.

“We could have danced another.” Tom lets Harry pull him along without much resistance. “I was quite enjoying myself.” 

“Later.” is all that Harry says as he gets himself some pumpkin juice. 

~/*\~

Sirius watches the last of Harry’s black and red robes vanish into the crowd that is near the area that drinks were being offered. The last bit of red is like the disappearing of a falling leaf. He had watched the way that Harry had danced with Tom and it was impossible to unsee. Yes, they might not notice it, perhaps Harry didn’t want to notice it. But it was impossible to miss the way that Tom held him close, moved with him. They were equals on that floor, both leading at some point but Harry definitely bent with Tom’s movements. It was much like the way that they acted around the home, Harry taking over or leading when needed, but fine to just go along with Tom. They were far closer than he ever could have imagined. 

He wonders if they really have been hiding the extent of the relationship from him in those muffled conversations. He knows that they were on the tipping point, or at least he had felt like they were. When had they taken that plunge? 

“How well do you know Marvolo Gaunt?” Remus asks him, he has watched the dance-like Sirius with wide eyes. It is hard to think that a 14-year-old and a 16-year-old were that much in tune with each other. Seemed so close to one another. 

“I have known him for almost two months now.” Sirius answers honestly, “and he is still almost as much of a mystery as the day that I met him.”

He can not say that Harry is not the same way though. There are secrets that are hidden deep in the both of them, that perhaps only they knew. 

Remus nods once he has that thoughtful look that he usually had when he is thinking hard about something before he gives his unfiltered opinion of it. Even years later Sirius recognizes the look of someone that is going to perhaps question his logic and feelings about something deeply. He feels much like he is 16 again and they are in the great hall. It has been a long time since he has really had time to spend with Remus. The letters that had happened back and forward between them helped to catch them up, but it is not the same as having him there in person. 

“There is something off about him, the way that he moves and acts. It's almost like he is faking all of it.”

Sirius sighs deeply because he has noticed that trained response as well. “He has moments that show he is genuine, I have learned to pick up on most of them. He is most honest and himself when he is around Harry and only Harry.”

“I will not claim to know him.” Remus shakes his head, he looks a bit smaller in his seat, he is not quite the person that Sirius remembers, but the harsh rules against those that have his illness have gotten worse. He is a beaten-down man, he can see it in the way that he holds himself. “But, I have met many predators in my time traveling that are like me, with things to hide about ourselves and he shows a lot of aggression.”

“He is an angry person, I can feel his magical flares sometimes but he also does care for Harry in his own way.” Sirius feels a need to defend the boy that he has spent time with. He knows that Tom is not the most honest of sorts, but he is not evil either. He is far from that. “He has had a hard life, and it shows in his defensiveness and need to control situations. Harry told me that they were imprisoned together and escaped together.”

It's not his place to say what they have been through. It shows sometimes if he is going, to be honest in both of them. Harry is watchful of the people around him, far too watchful not to have been attacked before. While Tom notes, he exits and watches people's faces and hands almost like he is waiting for someone to pull out a wand and point it at him. 

“Perhaps he just needs then to learn how to properly handle the trauma and stress then.” Remus relents. “I may be just overreacting. It’s just he reminds me so very much of someone that is in desperate need to assert some sort of control over their life and tries to achieve that by controlling others in their life. He seemed like he was upset with us taking Harry's attention, did you see it or feel it.” 

Yes… Remus really was observant. It had not changed in all the years that he had known him. His worries could be calmed with enough reason, and logic apparently in the case of how Albus had convinced him it was better that Harry grew up away and safe from the magical world and by his assurance that it had been Sirius that had betrayed his friends. It's still a bit painful the way that he had been written out of everything, and that others had been so convinced that it was in his character to be a follower of the Dark Lord. Sirius would have rather died than turn. 

But yes… Sirius had felt the slight pick up of magic, he had not seen the strain as much more than it usually was in Tom's smile tonight. 

“I did. I think that he is just really attached to Harry. He doesn’t seem to have any other friends, and mostly just hovers around him as I think that Tom only trusts Harry enough to let his guard he has up for everyone else down. He also is quite gentle with animals, and I have never seen him do much more than raise his voice and break something with accidental magic.” 

Come to think of it he has never really seen Tom use magic, despite Harry’s assurances that he is really powerful. He will not spare, he will not clean with it. The only time that he has seen Tom use it was to light the hallway and even then his magic fizzled a lot. 

Remus seemed to accept his words. Even if he is studying him a little now. He is in a more relaxed posture.“I am not saying that he is a threat or anything. I just worry. I know that I have no real right to push my way into this small family you're forming’s business, I just want to make sure that Harry stays safe.” 

“Marvolo may have the blood of Voldemort in him, but he isn’t him,” Sirius assures. “He has much more control over his emotions, even if he is easy to upset.” 

Conversations shifts to safer waters from there and Sirius is able to push the doubts that he has far from his mind. 

~/*\~

Harry lets people come and talk to them. Tom is good at keeping conversations that he wants to have going, and making people feel like they are really something and a pressure to be around. Even if they are very far from it. The boys that are ‘their age’ are mostly ignorant of the world that is around them. They have grown up on many false stories about both Voldemort and Harry himself. Tom takes them with stride and is quick to hint that he agrees with their politics without ever saying so. He really is somewhat magic with his ability to drive conversations and yes he has lots of experience doing it, but he is a true master of his craft. It is only because Harry knows him, that he is able to see the cracks in his mask. 

Tom’s hand drifts closer to him though, even as they are leaning on the wall together. It is almost like he desires closeness and yet will not indicate it. It is almost mid-party and Harry decides to take him back to the floor so that they can keep appearances and scope out who they should talk to next and or make their move toward Lucius. 

After a more relaxed second and third dance, Tom disappears for a little bit with a few of the ministry officials that seem to want to talk to him about putting to use his seat, and doing so properly. It is while getting another round of drinks this time to bring to Tom and not the other way around he comes face to face with Draco and Pansy. 

He has to remind himself that deep down Draco had the capability to be good. He never wanted to be a Death Eater. He had never wanted to follow Voldemort showing his true colors during the time that Harry was locked in the dungeons below his house, and the room or requirements. He still though does not like him. Not in the slightest… he was the ferret that made his school life about as miserable as Snape, but without the baggage that went with the reason, Snape was so rude and terrible to him. Malfoy had little excuse other than Harry not shaking his hand at 11. Which even if shaking hands was an important thing in the Wizarding World there was not a timeline that he would shake the hand of someone that wanted to put someone even if it was Ron down in front of him to make themselves look better. It was low for anyone, especially a Slytherin that should have shown better cunning. 

“Lord Potter.” Draco greeted. 

“Master Malfoy.” Harry did his best to smile. “I heard that Lucius had a son. It is nice to meet you formally. I would shake your hand but my hands are full.” 

Draco smiled slightly at that. “It's alright. I heard this year about your miraculous return to the Wizarding World. Are you planning to attend any of the schools in Europe or continue with your tutored education?”

Harry leads him back towards Tom as this is a good way to get perhaps Malfoy’s father to enter the conversation as a way to keep his son out of trouble. Harry feels a bit low for doing this, but it's not like he would let Tom actually hurt Draco. Even if he still has that pose around him that makes it hard to stand being in his presence. 

“I will not be attending Hogwarts if that is what you are suggesting. I have no interest in spending more time in your headmaster’s presence than I have to. The only other school that I had considered to attend has a headmaster that was a convicted Death Eater that was quick to renounce. I don’t particularly wish to pick a side in a confrontation that is and will happen.”

“Don’t fancy yourself a savior then?” Pansy’s pug-like face looks slightly worse as she tries to smile and sound like she is more intelligent than she is. He has been hanging around Tom too long. He is starting to note the worst qualities in a person before he even gives them a chance, or in this case, a second one. 

“I fancy myself a survivor,” Harry states plainly finally reaching Tom and all but thrusting his drink at him. Tom takes note of his slight annoyance immediately and shifts his gaze towards the young heir of one of his old followers. 

“Harry, Mrs. Bones here has been informing me that your restraining order against Albus will hold for another 6 months as he has seemingly been accused of possibly copying Ministry Files on you.” Tom swiftly gets Harry involved in the adult conversations as a good way to excuse him of the guests that had followed him. 

“I am glad.” Harry quickly jumps in. “He is rather insistent that it is my job to slay a Dark Lord that has already been defeated.”

“Yes.” Bones nods her head swiftly. “Dumbledore was once a great wizard but old age seems to be affecting him if he thinks that we should place our whole faith and nation on the line in the name of a prophecy. Rest assured that we in the defense units and justice systems take the possibility of he-who-shall-not-be-named return seriously and will stand against him should he.” 

“You have a restraining order against the headmaster?” Draco sounded amazed and Harry was reminded what it was like to be 14 truly again and no idea when to not try to involve oneself in the conversation. Tom doesn’t look amused with the interruption nor the hint that the other is not wanted. “I can’t believe that you could manage that. Father says that Albus has been sticking his hands into a lot of the departments...” 

It does seem to get Lucius to look over them. Harry swears he sees the other pail slightly at the way that Tom is frowning at his son. It would have been comical if Harry didn’t know who Tom really was. It wasn’t like Tom would hurt Draco, at least when there were witnesses, and Harry was around. But it still was in that dark sort of way ironic. 

“Lord Gaunt, Mrs. Bones, Lord Potter.” Lucius dips his head in greeting. 

“Pleasant for you to join us.” Tom greets back. 

“I must be checking on my daughter now, I think that you and she would get along well Potter.” Mrs. Bones excuses herself and makes her way towards where Susan was talking with an older boy. Protective mother instincts were never wrong, Harry was sure. But it also did give her a good excuse to get out of the conversation.

“It’s a pleasure.” Lucius almost manages to sound sincere. 

“Harry was about to introduce me to your son, he is much like you with his inquisitive nature.” Tom is no longer frowning instead he is smiling quite nicely, a real one Harry notices. 

As if he is cornering his prey. 

“He is one of the brightest in his year.” Lucius bobs his head. “I do believe that you wished to talk about Ministry culture.”

“I did.” Tom tilts his head. “Harry and I will have to meet with you again, Draco as we need to talk business now.” 

Draco looks mildly surprised at the use of his first name and looks like he is going to protest it, but Lucius glances at him and he quickly shuts his trap. 

“Follow me.” Lucius takes them a bit out of the crowd, but Tom makes sure that they go further. 

~/*\~

Separating Lucius into the maze of the gardens around them is a rather simple task. Especially when Tom brings up that he likes his son’s inquisitive nature. Harry of course follows closely as they move to a more private location. 

Tom waits until he is sure that Harry has wandlessly cast the proper spells and then takes a better stance. Harry makes the mark burn again with a nod of his head. This time it is stronger and Lucius faces them both with great fear. Tom savers this as Harry has been instructed not to make jokes this time around. His former follower needs to feel fear and intimidated into helping them or this could very well backfire on them. 

“My Lord...” He starts.

“I am sure that you know your predicament by now Lucius. Tom cresses his wand that is still in his sleeve and makes sure that his voice is devoid of most emotions. “I find myself disappointed that one of my most loyal did not attempt to find me. Not only that, but denounced me at his earliest convenience.”

He circles, had he the ability he would possibly have curioed him just for the way that he stands there before him as if he has done nothing wrong, though he doubts that Lucious would have the skill to have revived him, especially with the way that Harry had to have been dedicated to have put him together.

“My Lord, I was only making sure that if there was a sign of you, that I would be in a position to be of use to you.”

“Spoken like a true Slytherin, however, there were many signs so many in fact that a boy of 11 was able to find me.” 

Harry tilted his head, he had a face that suggested that he would be having words with him later. Tom keeps his face the correct state of viciousness. 

“I have never renounced the old ways,” The man lowers himself. This that I have been obliged to present each day since your absence that is my true mask.”

Oh yes, Tom is not foolish enough to fall for such pleasant words, he knows none of this has anything to do with him. Lucius has always aspired to climb the political ladder, the had always wanted to increase his wealth and power for none but himself. And had Tom shown up weak, and unable to use his magic properly the man before him would have turned him in without a sliver of regret for his actions. It disgusts him. Oaths mean nothing apparently to the Malfoy family and he will not make that mistake ever again. 

“You would have returned simply out of fear.” Tom draws out the word, savoring the way that Lucius shivers slightly.”But no matter, your position that you have gained is something that I have use for. I have come to you tonight in need of something I trusted you to guard and if you still have it and it is taken care of. Then things can be forgiven and I will reward you with both the honor of your life and your family’s lives, and serving me.”

He pokes his wand into the side of Malfoy's face, he watches the way that his eyes dance and the sweat on his brow. 

“I want the book I entrusted to you.” He twists the tip in so that it will be slightly painful. 

“Yes, of course, I still have it.” Malfoy gets up slowly carefully and even if he is slightly Taller than Tom, he still is not looking at his face. He is doing all that he can to elevate his anger, and it does nothing for it. Harry is correct that betrayal is a sin that can never truly be forgiven. 

“You will take us to retrieve it, and I hope that for your sake it is safe. I would rather spare Draco and Narcissa walking into any unpleasantness.” He dangles the threat there, even if he has no magical way to make it happen, Tom has done great acts of evil without raising a wand. 

Harry is gripping his wand a little tighter. He doesn’t like this and Tom stills him with a glance, some things have to be done. 

“I would never betray you, my Lord.” 

“See that you don’t.” And though Tom nods once to that, he already knows that Lucius has done so. 

They are brought into one of the estate’s large libraries that Tom recognizes to be the personal one, his Diary is protected in one of the locked cases, no doubt protected under the highest of charms. He can feel his soul, and Harry can too as he leans a little against the shelf. It is near overwhelming the compulsions on it. Tom had made it so that any that touched it other than himself would even with being near it want to write in it or at least look at the pages and learn its secrets. 

He takes the book into his hands and feels the locket that he wears tug to get closer to it. He turns it over hands brushing against the smooth leather. It feels like home and anticipation. He feels the shard, the large one move under his fingertips. It wants to come home. 

There is suddenly a rushing of cold. And the figure of Death is before them with all his glory, Tom knows not if any of the others can see his shadow scratch. Harry is not looking at the creature and Malfoy doesn’t seem to notice either. The only real noticeable thing is the temperature change. They are probably just consumed in a battle of wills. In Lucius’s case with preparing a defense should he need to flee and Harry making sure that Tom will not be hit with anything as he looks over his diary. 

**And so all the Shards are gathered into one place.** He whispers softly to Tom. His skull inches from his ear, that soft lulling tone of voice, is slightly more horrifying than when it wore a human appearance. **I would be careful about adding that one to your collection, it has a mind of its own. And would be best for you not to add it here.**

Before he can ask. Death has bowed to Harry that has noticed him now out of the corner of his eye. Tom shivers with the look of knowing that they share. 

“Harry the spell please.” Tom almost orders, as he is deeply unsettled with the prospect of joining with this part of himself, especially if he was warned off of it. He wants to be out of this room, and by the person that has witnessed him in a moment of weakness. 

Harry nods once, and Lucius raises his wand only to be hit with a blazing red spell.

~/*\~

Harry makes sure that Lucius has no recollection of anything other than Tom wishing to talk to him, and them discussing politics. He is not the best at these types of modifications. Tom would have been much better suited for the task, but they don’t have that luxury. 

Tom is pleased with himself and their success, even if he had been shaken by Death’s appearance. Harry would have to shift the shard safely from the book later, he has a feeling that it will be much harder than the others. They loopback with a slightly confused Lucius that may feel like he was starting to have a hangover if anything. 

“Where were we?” Lucius rubs at his head as they start to exit back to the party.

“The part where I asked you, your opinion of the Minister.” Harry helpfully supplies. 

“Ah yes, Lucius’s gray eyes become more focused. “I would say that we are in need of a bit stronger leadership, not that I am saying that Fudge is not capable, only that I have not been a fan on some of his policies that have not been in line with the traditional.”

There are a few of the other people headed their way. 

“I think that I have eaten up enough of your time.” Tom politely gestures. “Thank you for your insight.” 

“It is no problem at all.” Lucius smiles, though Harry can tell that he is trying to put together through the haze what exactly he has said that made the other believe this. 

“Harry, do you want to share one last dance before we head home?” Tom extends a hand to him and Harry even though he is tired agrees. Though his eyes immediately catch on a man that he was not sure would be there this night. Severus. He is standing near Draco that seems a bit relieved to see his father. The dark look that Snape has on his face makes Harry all the more inclined to take Tom’s hand and let him pull him to the floor.

He wants it out of his line of view, but it's still there judging him, and Harry is reminded of the way that Snape died because of the man that is in front of him. The horror that the people he has sat with tonight would have felt being targets of the person that is holding him as if they had not threatened to murder someone and his family should he not comply. 

He feels guilty and slightly ashamed of the person that he is holding the shoulder of. 

He has no right to feel this way… He can not be ashamed of Tom because he was the one that created this issue by bringing him back. He had broken many laws, and his hands were far from clean even if he has not murdered people to achieve it. He had done a great possible evil in bringing Tom back, and yet he selfishly doesn’t want to care. He doesn’t want to feel ashamed or guilty about the people that are not here that were far better than Tom, that had not deserved their fates. 

And yet he wants whatever this gentleness that is happening between them. He values Tom’s company and friendship. He wants the life that he has, and he doesn’t like the fact that it all hangs over him, all that he knows, and even with it what he has done. He wonders if they really deserve to seem normal. He wonders if he deserves to be happy despite everything that has happened tonight and what it could mean. If it was even to last, or if it was all just part of a game to Tom. Who Harry knew was slowly winning him over. 

“You're distracted.” Tom leans close to him so that none would have been able to hear him. “You did well, we got what we came for.” 

Yes, his thoughts perhaps are a little bit jumbled like Lucius’s and it has nothing to do with magic and more of trying to piece together the person that he is letting so close to him. He tries to focus on the dance and nothing else, dance and he can go home, they kept their appearances and out of suspicion of any wrongdoing. 

“Yes.” He agrees, though his throat feels slightly dry.

He knew that they had to get the diary and that threatening would be involved, of course, he knew. But it is impossible to tell how much of what Tom had suggested was an act. How far that he would have taken things should Lucius have resisted. They might not have used an unforgivable, but Harry could tell that Tom wanted to and it sorts of scares him slightly. It scares him that he is willing to go along with some of these things if he can justify it. He is worried what it means if he would have helped to act on some of the threats if Lucius proved to have been difficult. 

“Then why are you acting the way that you are?” Tom’s perfect face is cracking a little, he is concerned perhaps that he has pushed him. And Harry wishes that the other could not read him so well, that they were not connected in the way that they were now more than ever. 

“I am tired.” Harry lies and even to his own ears it sounds weak. 

“I gave you my word that I wouldn’t kill you, even if we were on opposing sides.” He can feel Tom’s breath moving the hair on his head. “You don’t have to fear me, Harry. I am fond of you.” 

He says that but even now Harry can feel his heart racing slightly. He pulls away just slightly and he can see something in Tom’s eyes that is honest. It is very honest and even if it is, the way that he says it makes Harry even more scared of him than he was in the graveyard, or during the battle at Hogwarts, or walking to what could have been his death. 

It's the fact that Tom is honest about being fond of him. 

He wants to laugh because that is a very stupid fear to have, he should be happy that they are moving closer, that Tom is willing to possibly bend to some of the things that Harry wants, just because he too perhaps wants to be close. 

“I know.” Harry can not deny that he knows this, and even as they are moving slowly in a box-like step that takes no concentration, it feels overwhelming. Tom is too close to him… and it is like the day that they first danced, first placed themself on this road to faking a relationship. 

“Then what you saw is nothing for you to fear.” Tom’s voice vibrates through him. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” Harry pulls away. “You can’t.” 

It comes out near a whisper. He shakes his head because it’s truthful but it's the right amount that he isn’t sure how far to trust it… or if he wants to. He has no idea what it means. 

“I don’t follow.” Tom is searching him with his eyes as if trying to find out where his equation has gone to hell and still comes up with nothing. “You know that I am being honest, and yet you're upset about this.” 

“I don’t want to hear you say those things even if you mean them.” Harry takes another step back from him. 

Something very hurt, and then angry crosses Tom’s face. “You don’t want to hear that I like you, that you are my ally?”

Harry shakes his head… his chest is tightening. 

“Fine. I won't say anything of the sort again.” Tom hisses. 

Harry should say something, he should salvage it, but these emotions scare him, as it sounds that Tom’s idea of fondness is different than his, and more than what he is saying, and Harry makes a very uncharacteristic move for himself and just retreats. Retreats so he can clear his head away from the emotions that he can feel blending between them. 

He never wanted anything like this. 

He didn’t ask for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly one of the longest chapters that I have ever written. Oh well was worth!


	12. Wishing on Soul Shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry start to come to terms with what it could mean to care for someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Loves ｡◕ ‿ ◕｡

The air feels cold and far too warm. His face is burning, and his chest is constricting. Breathing is what he has to remind himself that he needs to do, he's not sure how he keeps a smile on his face as there are a few people that glance his way. He grips hard to the front of the red to his dress robes. And his hands trembled with the force of him holding it. He anchors himself with moving away. 

The more he moves the more the emotions that are not his own fade, fade as if they are the dying echoes of the longest shout a person could muster to scream in a cave. He keeps his feet moving towards the lanterns that are swaying in the distance. They are his guide down the twisted turns of the maze that leads him to a clearing, another that is far from other people and would have possibly been an escape for lovers to meet. There is a bench and a large tree. The lantern that hangs from the branches flickers with the hot breeze. The few small flowering plants that are in the grass, play hide to lightning bugs that give off faint lights every now and then, blinking out faint traces of yellow.

It would have been beautiful to him at any other time, but not at the moment. It feels like even the hedges are forming walls around him. He sits still on the metal and leans into the back of it, feeling the slits dig slightly into him. His breathing is hard, and he feels a lot calmer to be away from Tom. His heart rate lowers, though his thoughts are still scattered. As sitting there gives nothing but his panicked mind the motive to think about the things that he is trying so desperately not to think of. He prys his hands off of his robe. And runs one through his hair and covers his face rubbing at it, with the other trying to get some sense of what is happening, and where his head is at.

Tom is fond of him.

Tom is fond of him. 

Tom is fond of him. 

It repeats over and over and over in his head, their conversations and his hovering. He plays over all their interactions in rapid succession as he begins to grip the bench. The fact that Tom is not coming after him, is relieving but also worrying. 

He can’t get that look of hurt out of his head, that brief flash of it the realest emotion that he has ever seen from the other. He had hurt him, and it feels like one of the worst things that he has ever done. A mistake that will not be easy to take back.

Tom is fond of him

Tom likes him.

Tom is fucking fond of him. 

Because this is his luck, this is his life. Things were bound to go wrong and thus they had in that way that only something as messed up as fate could manage to press upon him. 

He shuts his eyes and breaths in slowly and out through his nose deeply. He has no idea what he wants to do with this knowledge. What he wants to do even an hour from now when this party is to end and those that are still there told to leave. 

He doesn’t want to go home at the moment. 

It's cowardly to run away, it's not to take a moment and try to rationalize it all. 

But how was he to even begin such a task?

How can he trust himself, in this mess of his own making, in his sea of doubts? He was close to Tom, he believed in him in a way, trusted in to be himself if nothing else. And yet this feels new and opposite of what he knows. The Tom that he has known for 3 years is different from the Voldemort that he had known. One that would feel nothing about manipulating his affections. One that would fake being fond of him and seeking a relationship if it meant that he would get what he wanted. 

Tom needed him currently, but he would not always, and Harry was so very used to people getting closer to him and throwing him away. He can not trust that Tom will do anything but keep his word about not killing him regardless of the steps that they take in the future. If anything it shows a slight improvement, but it does not give him confidence. 

He again tries to figure out where Tom’s attraction to him could have developed and his mind just hits him with the things that he likes about the other. Tom’s bold smiles, the way that his hand reaches for his when they travel, the way that he locks arms with him, the way that he holds him when they are dancing, the way that he sits close to him so that their hands were almost touching but doesn’t grip it. He thinks about how he has seen the other hold Loki, and wonders if that is the closest to the fondness that Tom is capable of. There is a difference between being fond of something that is a pet and another to be fond of who a person is. 

That is different, it has to be. 

And yet the way that Tom looks at him reminds him of that. Reminds him of the way someone looks at something and all they can think is that they want it, that they wish to possess and own it. Such a thing must be the way that Tom is able to feel fondness, in his own way, a twisted way. It's not a healthy kind, it is obsessive and needy. But Tom was that way. He was obsessive and he desperately sought out interaction with him. 

Harry had not meant for it to happen, but it was as if he had isolated a person, cut them down from a pedestal that they were once on, and stripped them of something that was important to them. Not intentionally, he had not meant for Tom to come back without usable magic, but intentions did not matter, it happened. Tom had no choice but to rely on him, to trust him, and to bend in ways to suit him if it be just slightly. Tom did push back against Harry, but if Harry were any less than what he was, if he had turned Tom away, the other wouldn’t be safe. It makes sense for Tom to obsess over him if he is the only one that seems to care, was the one that he has had the most contact with since Harry found him drifting in the forests. Tom might have isolated himself for safety and because without Magic that he could not achieve his goals or reclaim his place in the world. But Harry had not exactly encouraged him in the past 7 months to try and connect with other people. He wasn’t sure that Tom would have even if he had pressed it. 

In the same way Harry had isolated himself and made it his near sole purpose in this life to bring Tom back, to make him a slightly better person and free them both from the prophecy and their intertwined souls. In this time yes he had become almost as obsessed with fixing Tom that he was unable to concentrate on anything else. He was willing to put the horror the other had done in order to achieve this. He is willing to take care of him and he is willing to put up with whatever it was that got his goal completed.

He didn’t know when it had traversed into caring more about Tom, becoming friends with him, or enjoying his company. 

And it scares him…

The closeness and way that he has built up what little of a life he has around another person. It scares him deeply, more so than anything before it. It brought back warnings from his past life, new red flags, and the thought of pain as it would inevitably crumble, as whatever their relationship was, it could not be healthy if they were both so codependent on each other. 

It would end for better or for worse and Harry was sure that this one would break him worse than the others, as he feels he has a very deep connection to Tom, one that others not even himself can fully understand. 

He had not noticed Death had taken a seat next to him. The figure of death himself was clocked in shadows that drift from the lantern and scratch showing the massive ribs and frame. He has soft blue eye lights that look at him with all the care the creature is capable of. And yet it feels more human and alive than most. 

**Harry here you are not celebrating the victory that you have achieved.** The voice whispers softly to him, nearly making him jump. **You have succeeded in reuniting Riddle with his soul. You are a step closer to the mission. And yet you are here away from the party and those closest to you, unhappy.**

Harry sighs deeply. “I suppose that I am.”

**What has been said or done that has left you in such a manor?**

Harry almost wants to laugh, laugh at the care that Death takes when moving closer to him and the way that the beach creaks and bows with the weight of Death set upon it. Such a concept, such a thing even in the physical sense is unmeasurable. And yet he wants to cry at the same time because of all the people that he has ever had in his life, Death is one of the few that know him so well. Death can tell when he is upset or frustrated and comes. 

“He said that he is fond of me.” Harry turns to watch the fireflies that seem to be blinking less and less with the presence that is around them. So Harry drifts his eyes towards the sky as Death waits for him to clarify. “Tom thinks that he fancies me.” 

**You say it as if he doesn’t know if he likes you or not and even if he were to be as you put it fond of you, this is a problem?** Death shifts again and holds out his boney hand to make a perch for one of the lighting bugs that has dared to move closer to the light above the bench. 

“Yes.” Harry says immediately, even if it makes his throat a little dry to think about it. Even if it hurts to think there is a part of him that likes at least that the other can see him as something other than a naive child that others saw him as. That there is someone that can know about his past life and he can talk to about it if he feels like it. Someone that understands the lies that must be maintained and the pressure of what could happen should anyone find out. 

Death’s eyes look through him, they twinkle a little in the lightning. His skull shines with the tilt of his head. **You decided that this is a problem.** He nods to himself. **Do you not like him anymore or has he made any unwanted advances?**

“No.” Harry is quick to defend, “Tom hasn’t done anything… at least like that. We both know that he is capable of and has done great evils.”

 **And this makes it so that you feel guilty for liking him. I see.** Death watches as the lightning bug crawls towards the end of his palm. **You didn’t seem to care so much about this when you brought him back.**

And of course Death is right. But that had been before he had gone and got himself attached and invested in this mess. It was when he trusted his own judgment wouldn’t be clouded. This would not end well. 

Ginny flashes in his head her smile, the way they seemed to understand some things about each other. What the chamber was like, and how much Quidditch could mean, the need to fight, the need to be brave. These were things that had bound them together. They had made Harry long for the day that the worst was behind them, and the best was on a Quidditch pitch ready to play a game with her brothers. 

And it hurts because he has let someone worse closer to him. Someone that has strong feelings that will end when Harry is of no use, or because Tom will grow to see him as a threat to his new idea of life. His politics and ideals are not compatible with Harry. Tom is a snake that will devour him.

**Harry, I want you to tell me something. Tell me honestly do you feel happy with him?**

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it. He does. He likes the times they are together because their friendship has never been made with unrealistic expectations. They have wanted other things from each other, but they have never crossed the lines to where they are forcibly trying to change each other. He remembers Hermione always nagging him to do what she thought was best, her strong morals and stubbornness even if she was mistaken. Ron and his way of pushing Harry to follow adventure that he perhaps should have kept his nose out of. Dumbledore and his countless hints, nudges, and will that was asserted. 

Harry has never had a friend like Tom that pushes, but never enough to change him on a fundamental level. Harry knows just what he is for the most part, and Tom knows just as much about him. They know each other's sins and deepest feelings as it can be felt when they are too close together. 

**Don’t overthink it. Yes or no?**

“Yes.” It comes out a whisper and Harry hates the answer. 

He is happier this time around not facing danger at every turn. He is happy living a simple life and learning things that he never could have before. He likes writing Quirrel and he likes having Sirius close. Things from this life never would be possible in his old and it is Tom that has set him on this new path. A path with a need to understand different people, and see things that are not through the Order’s tinted windows or Dumbledore’s greater good speeches. He likes sitting in the library with Tom discussing life, choices, and politics. He likes the times they are out together on small errands or the way that Tom complains at Quidditch matches. He likes the dark humor that can fall between them seamlessly. 

**Then it is a simple answer.** Death eyes him knowingly. 

“It is not that simple.” Harry narrowed his eyes. 

Because if it were, then there wouldn’t be this horrible feeling bubbling up in him at the idea of being happy, that they could exist in a world together. It can not be as simple as you are my friend and I am yours. It can not be simple as if it grows into more than it does. It is because of who they are, what they have done. Those that are dead and can never come back, the blood that bleeds into their relationship no matter the peaceful moments. There can be no forgiveness from those that are gone. There can be no forgiveness for those that still live on. They would kill Tom if they knew, everyone right down to Sirius and Remus.

How can there be closure for those gone when their killer lives to possibly do something just as bad if not worse. And in the thick of it, there is Harry that has let himself care for such a monstrous person. Because he can see where it went wrong, has felt some of his feelings, and can understand. Tom is not good, but the world was not good to Tom either. It was not kind and anyone could have fallen given the circumstances from grace, not as far as him perhaps but definitely down a spiral of madness, loneliness, and hate.

And damn it all if Harry cares for someone that knows what that feels like. Yes Harry might not have fallen low enough to kill hundreds in a crusade to build their own better version of the world but he can understand that feeling of madness, hate, and crushing isolation and loneliness. 

And he wishes more than anything that he doesn’t, that they were not who they were. That they were really just 14 and 16-year-old children that could fall in love, and have a happy ending, guilt-free. 

Godric does he wish it. 

He feels the tears as they fall silently down his face, roll down his cheeks and makes him sniffle because perhaps he really does feel that same fondness and that same longing. 

Death puts his hand on his head. **You humans always confuse me. You have such limited time, and you waste it thinking what could, would, and should have been. You question things and long for things that are within your grasp to possess. What does it matter what others have to say? Greater people have bowed to love for far less. Even the most evil of people have sought love, and love has had the power to fix, change, and heal people.**

The grip on his head tightens slightly, thin fingers almost flattening the crazy locks. 

**What I am trying to tell you, Harry, is there is plenty of time for guilt and regret, but let that happen because you truly have reason for it, not for others' opinions and expectations of you. If you are happy, and you can make a difference for a better life for yourself, then make it so. The dead can not change their fate, only the living can. Do what you wish with your life, and stop worrying what others will think of it or if it will work out. Otherwise, all the times you have a restart or chance will just be riddled with what-ifs.**

“We are not on even footing.” Harry dries his eyes. “And I do not know even if I love him, just that I care, and I care that I have possibly hurt him.” 

**A strong start. My advice is to see how it will go and to talk to him about the things that worry you. I think you will find that he has worries of his own.**

~/*\~

When Harry had left Tom had stalked off towards the bar. He is not of ‘age’ but no one has to know that. No, he looks old enough to pull off 17. He's older than that. He is much older and he feels that in his bones as he moves to take a seat. He has a very strong feeling that Harry has headed home already or stuffed himself somewhere and will not be coming back for the rest of the evening. His chest is tightening, and his magic fizzling. It's fine with Tom. Harry could hide all that he wanted. ~~Its not…~~ No it really is. 

He should never bear any true emotions towards others, they always let him down in some great, and new unexpected way. Even people that he felt could understand him, or when he was younger were supposed to take care of him. They would make him look like a complete and utter fool. He’s just dumb enough to fall for it again. 

That has to be the definition of madness, trying the same thing over and over and somehow expecting different results. He is too old to fall for it, or he should have been. He is too wise in the ways of the world and human nature to be stupid enough to think that telling Harry that he is fond of him will work out well in any sense of the word. He had let success and the feeling of relief that they had done something great together enter his head. All he wanted to say was that he valued Harry. 

How foolish of him.

Then again, no one has made him feel nearly as foolish, and as much self hate as Harry. And there has never ever been a single person that has shown him the type of compassion and understanding that Harry has. Harry had treated him as a person, not as someone that should be feared, not as someone that he has to earn respect from, and prove that he is not a Mudblood, or better than a worthless half-blood. He does not have to fear the implications of being an orphan, owning old robes, or the Guant’s disgraced name. Harry cares nothing about social status or economic status. He does not believe all that others have told him, and he does not bring up the indignities that Tom has suffered to somehow impose that he is better. 

Harry is better than him. Perhaps not in magical skill, if he were to have his whole soul, but he is kinder, more forgiving, and more honest than anyone should be. It matches well with his stubbornness and determination to help Tom be something other than a murder that he has suffered the most from. Tom knows that Harry’s care has limits, but it had never felt that way. Harry is a good person that does not flex that he is better or mightier than thou. He does not claim to fight for good or impose on him the virtues that he seems to stubbornly cling to. 

He is light magic, but not the type that wants to swallow up the dark. Harry is acquainted with the darkness of humanity and he has taken something that is twisted into his life. And Tom has dared to think that he is worthy of that care. That he is worthy to perhaps be more than just someone that follows him or calls him an ally. 

One can’t hold onto smoke, or sunbeams, or even warmth. So there is no reason that Tom should think himself lucky enough to think he can trap it, force it to stay with him, and to show the lively care that is directed towards Sirius or Remus. The type that bleeds into Harry’s fond memories of friends or family. Those things are not Tom’s. They have never been and they shall never be. And yet he wants them more than he would admit, perhaps because of soul shards or the decency that he has been shown the past 3 years, that makes him want to own it currently more than power or wealth. Though things like that would go well with his ambitions. 

Yes he wants to own Harry, not control him completely, as then he would not be Harry. But Tom wants him to understand that they belong together, that fate has tied them, even if it is not to kill each other. But tied them because they can be great together. Harry is his foil in every way that he needs. He is a push back but also a pull that drives him to see other ways of doing things. He gives him a want at the very least to be accepted by the one person that he can truly be himself around. And yet tonight he has pushed too far. He has pushed Harry’s willingness to put up with him by being honest about caring about the other. To Harry that must have been the gravest of insults. The person that killed his family, that he has done so much for wants more.

How dare he want more…

He grabs at his hair in frustration. 

Yet how dare Harry give him such hope… 

How dare Harry infect every part or him with the need to be close, and a need for companionship and understanding. 

How dare Harry make him want more then what life had previously given him.

This was hell, feeling strongly for another person and having them be disgusted by the very idea. 

He wants to curse everyone. He wants to kill someone. But he also does not want to be stuck here without a way out of it. He just slumps himself down onto the counter and downs whatever is left of the whine that is placed at the counter or the guests to share. It feels good, the rush of it. Forgetting what the hell just happened sounded nice at the moment. If he got intoxicated then at least he could pass out before he acted on impulses and desires to hurt others. 

Such a pathetic creature is Voldemort, such a pathetic creature Tom Riddle has become. If the great and powerful bends because there is someone that he dares to care for. How pathetic truly must he be to want to drink it away and forget. He has never had the urge to block things out so badly as he does currently. His mind is an unfriendly place to be usually. He can hype himself up as much as he wants to the world. But he knows what lurks in the corners of it. He knows what he is, who he is.

He is a person product of the abuse that he has suffered, of a love potion, and a loveless affair. He is a hardened person because the world would have destroyed him otherwise. He is someone that's name draws fear, and he likes the reaction as it is tagged with respect for his power. It is better to be feared as they say than loved and there is no point in trying to be anything different, he has only disillusioned himself into thinking that a mild approach to fix things he sees wrong with Magical Britain is possible if he is to put the work into it. Being cruel, hard, and cold is what he knows best. And he knows it has worked well for him. The muted down understanding of human behavior and his need to copy it enough to blend in has never gone away. 

Once a devil’s child, always one, the Matron had been right about that one. He doesn’t expect anyone to understand the necessity of him and his plans. Least of all Harry. And yet he has considered what Harry has told him and thought about it. He has thought long about the things that he has done. He has no remorse for what has built him to where he is now. He can’t as the faulting could truly be his undoing. He must keep strong in his goals and ideals if he wants to gain support this time the correct way, according to Harry. 

Tom has few regrets and perhaps his inability to feel full ranges or emotions, even when he had a whole soul has helped to propel him in the direction of self-destruction after his goal has been fulfilled. But if he saves the Wizarding World and has to give up the slivers of his soul to do it, if he can push magic and learn past it all, then there is no greater purpose. And yet he selfishly thinks there is something that could go along with his climbs, and his desires. The thought that he doesn’t have to do it alone, or could have a partner in it. 

No matter the amount that he drinks, it will not turn off the words that keep repeating themselves in his head. 

~“I don’t want to hear you say those things even if you mean them.” ~

Does Harry doubt him that much… that he will be like that worthless girl that has betrayed him? When he has given his word, and his word is as good as law to him. 

He swirls the remaining wine in his glass and feels hands on him and he goes instantly to throw them off. He is not in the mood. He turns to see some sad version of Black. One that is slightly misty-eyed. Tom throws it off, and he repeats the act of placing a ‘comforting’ hand on his shoulder. 

This stupid man had a death wish. Tom glares at him with the best look of contempt that he can manage. Remus is the smart one to back a little away. There is not really any satisfaction in scaring the werewolf though, not one that usually would be there. 

“He cares about you.” Sirius says calmly.

Tom huffs out a breath at that, resisting making Harry really hate him by doing something horrible to his Godfather, that is obviously very drunk from the way that he is hardly holding himself upright and slurring some of his words. Remus was the sober one. 

He doesn’t feel very cared for at the moment. Show any real emotion and get burned. It still holds true, no matter what this fool says. 

“He does.” Sirius repeats, “I have never seen another person so determined to include another into their life, and world. He talks a lot about you when we’re traveling between matches. He finds ways to bring things back that you would like without even thinking about it.”

For some reason that softens him. As he has the random trinkets in his room that Harry has given him. He knows that his face is bright when he hands them off even if some are rather stupid gifts. But he feels his need to kill draining with some of his anger. Not enough to quit being angry at Harry, not enough not to feel wounded. But enough to make it so that his magic is not actually fizzling around him and making the air charged. He hasn’t been this in tune with it not since his rebirth. And to think he is getting this way because there is a shred of hope that Harry doesn’t mean what he has said. That he is just being stupid, and that Tom has not upset him enough to chase him off. ~~He needs him still.~~

“He just wasn’t ready for you to push it perhaps to the next stage in your relationship.” Sirius pats him hard once. “I don’t think he realizes how much you mean to him.” 

“Relationship…” Tom trails off. 

“The both of you remind me a little of James and Lily.” Sirius prattles on, leaning a little heavy on the hand that is still on Tom’s shoulder or he just might fall over. “You fight each other on nearly everything and have very conflicting interests. But you do care for each other I see the way he softens you, grounds you, and the way you push each other. He might not be ready to date you though but I am sure that day is coming. Hold on okay.”

And suddenly there is a very strange calm coming over him. Even with the way that Sirus seems to think that aside hug is the answer to the mess. It isn’t and he is hoping that Remus will take the hint and take him off of him. 

It makes sense…He doesn’t want a repeat of that girl. It was the fondness implication for both of them. Harry and he had reacted violently because perhaps he feared that Tom was toying with his possible affections and that it would not last just as before and Tom would betray him. It would have been something Tom would have done in the past, would have used currently if it was anyone but Harry. He doesn’t for whatever reason what to manipulate Harry into anything that will for sure blow up in his face exponentially. There is the fact that perhaps Harry thinks he wants more from him than he is capable of and is disgusted by that as well; there is still that of course. Sirius was drunk after all so there was no great way to be sure of the other’s merit. He doesn’t like the idea of Harry finding a real relationship with him to be repulsive, is very well aggravating. 

He pinched his nose and shut his eyes briefly. It was his luck that Harry is damaged by the idea of affection of any kind and has felt betrayed already by someone that he thought had loved him. He didn’t want Tom to be another added mistake and Tom was not really wanting to be that next mistake. The idea of a relationship beyond what they had is slightly unsettling. It is uncharted water, but he does wish for Harry to be his...

Still perhaps this is just a large misunderstanding and since he is older, he has to be the adult in the situation. Preferably they fix this conflict as soon as possible so that Tom can fix his soul safely or have a way to connect with the shards and be in better tune with his magic. 

“Thank you for putting this into perspective Sirius. I think that you should head home as Harry will be heading that way soon too.” Remus seems to take the hint and takes his drunk friend by the arm. They will hopefully get their things and leave. 

There is the sound of scraping and he turns back, having been distracted by the way that Sirius almost fell on top of a Severus Snape that gives the man a very dark scowl. Harry has sat himself much to the bartender's annoyance next to Tom. His shorter stature allows for his feel to hang a little above the ground. 

“I didn’t expect you the type to drink.” He tilts his head, the black hair is messier than it was before he had left. He looks like he is a mess as if he has been trampled by a hippogriff. His glasses have a smudge on them, and his eyes are slightly red. 

He has been crying, Tom can instantly note. His chest tightens again almost painfully, and he has not felt this way before. He doesn’t want to feel it either. 

“Sometimes one wants to forget being left standing on the dancefloor mid-dance because they embarrassed themselves fully.” 

“I think I was the one that embarrassed myself. I was afraid for a stupid reason.” Harry meets his gaze. “Morte helped me to realize that we can talk about it at home.” 

Home...

Harry reaches out his hand and Tom takes it, he shouldn’t he knows. But the warmth fills him, and he is reminded that it will leave him again. He hates himself at the moment, how weak he must look to Harry, kind Harry, that has sought him out to comfort him again. It doesn’t stop him from holding on tighter. Doesn't stop himself from forgiving Harry right then and there. It must be the alcohol that allows this to happen.

~/*\~

Harry takes them back to their home. Yes, it's not his anymore. It is just as much his as the people that he shares it with and the animals that it includes. He leads Tom towards their rooms, and just sort of waits to see if Tom with invite him inside of his, but then just decides against it and takes them to the place that Sirius wouldn’t interrupt them or would be too uncomfortable.

He orders Kreacher to bring him some coffee as he has a feeling that will help Tom and some water. He doesn’t know how much the other has had. Perhaps enough not to realize that he is holding on so tightly to Harry’s hand that it might actually bruise.

“I won’t run off again, you can let my fingers breathe.” 

Tom drops his hand as if it has burned him. And for some reason it makes Harry laugh, it finally has come full circle to where they were supposed to be. How they normally act around each other. 

“I can’t exactly be sure.” Tom defends as he sits close, but not too close to him on one of the Sofas in the library. Harry considers inching closer but decides against it as this is something serious that can’t really wait till morning or rather later morning. 

“I told you that you were stuck with me once right?” Harry defends himself. 

“More like I suggested that I was stuck with you.” Tom countered. 

“No, I am pretty sure that I told you that you couldn’t get rid of me easily.” 

“No, because you would come back even if I did manage to kill you.” Tom smiles slightly. 

“Right.” Harry smiles just as hesitantly back. 

It lapses back into near silence. 

“I am, well I can’t really apologize for it.” Tom sighs. “Because I am not sorry. I told you the truth.” He folds his arms in a move that Harry has started to notice is not because he is really annoyed but rather a way that puts a barrier between himself and a person. It's like a self hug. 

“I got scared like I said.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I felt guilty for liking you.”

Tom blinks repeatedly, his face is confusion, complete confusion and Harry doesn’t ever think he has seen such a look. Harry holds up his hand. 

“ I am going to be completely honest with you so please just hear me out till the end.” Harry waits for a nod to start. 

“You have done things, things that are so evil that I struggle sometimes to think about. There are so many people that I have spent my life with that even the briefest mention of you was enough to cause them to shake and they couldn’t even utter your name. I spent my first life in constant fear, and or anger at the thought of you. But in the end, I felt sorry for you. I saw someone like me that came from nothing, that people hated, that never knew love. And where I had a support system you were rewarded with the Second World War and a house that would have hated you just for the last name you carried. I really wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t.” Harry breathes deeply. “For me to learn to care so deeply for a person that did those things… it's hard. It's hard to think about what others would say, what it could mean. I have been hurt before Tom, very much by the people that I love. So much that with the exception of Sirius who died very early into the Second Wizarding War I cut them all out so that I would never as much as meet them again.”

Harry looks away from him. The sofa is better to look at. The flower patterns do not hurt to look at like Tom’s eyes that seem to be looking into the soul that they share. 

“But I think that the funny thing is, I really like you. For some reason beyond me, you are the most true thing in my life. The one thing that makes constant sense. I don’t have to be the golden hero for you, I don’t have to be the supportive friend that backs whatever crazy notion that you get into your head, I don’t have to fight at 11 against impossible odds, I don’t have to sacrifice myself for your vision of the greater good. I don’t have a role when it comes to you. I can be Harry, just Harry and you don’t know how nice that is. It's all that I have ever wanted. But I suppose that the thought of that changing slightly scared me. If I let myself be close to you, it will end in fire like everything else. You're ambitious, you're many things. And I am Harry, just Harry. So what it boils down to is I am I suppose okay with you being fond of me, as I am fond of you. If you mean it. I will be happy to see where it goes, guilt-free.” 

Tom has a very set look on his face, as Harry now risks to look at him. 

~/*\~

Harry has borne his soul to him. His heart beats a little harder, and even without touching Harry, his chest feels tight and yet warm. Very warm, and strange. It’s a good type of new feeling. Even if it makes him want to curl his fingers into his chest and force it to stay or to stop as it is unfamiliar and sure to become addicting. 

“I don’t know how I feel for you.” Tom manages. “I know that for some reason that I am fond of you. Drawn to you.” He amends. 

Yes that comes out exactly how his scrambled, half-drunk mind feels trying to connect the words to make a coherent sentence. And so he tries to force it to fit better. Because he will not be tongue-tied in what probably is one of the most defining conversations between them that they have shared. It is the most open that Harry has ever been and he can at the very least open just a little to show even a little bit of genuineness. 

“You make me feel warm in my chest, and when you are gone cold. You infuriate me more than anything has ever infuriated me before. There is nothing about you that makes sense. You know what I am, You know what I have done. And yet you forgive me as if it is your right to. I don’t have to pretend to be something that I am not and I have never promised to change.”

It aggravates him just to say it out loud. It makes his fist clenched themselves in his lap as he tried so hard to control himself. 

“And somehow you are kind. Kind to someone that you have no reason to be kind to. I am stuck between proving to you that you are foolish to trust a monster not to bare teeth and…”

“And?” Harry tilts his head and he can see that scar, the mark that makes them equal. The mark of his soul binding to him, and those eyes that feel like they are a killing curse. They are warm though, warm and far from cold-like death would be, as purgatory is rumored to be. 

“And I wish to own you, to own that light that is kind, so that none can have it. I don’t want to share you.” He all but growls. “I want you to be mine and mine alone.” 

Harry’s eyes soften a lot. “You can’t own people Tom.” 

“I know that.” He hisses, because yes of course he knows that. He can’t keep something that was never his, to begin with, nor can he steal it. Even though that childish small part of him, that languished in the locket in less than three present of his soul wishes so very much that it was not the case. 

Harry flicks his forehead, and it snaps him out of his head. “I can care for you and others at the same time, you know. There is room in my heart for more than one. Even if I am talking with Sirius or Remus or someone else. You have a place there.” 

It's burning strangely, it is warm and nice. He wants it to stay. 

“Just let me be closer.” Tom says it harshly, more so than he meant it to come out. 

Harry pulls him closer and wraps his arm around him. He closes his eyes a moment, just one. He knows what this is, he has seen them before and has had a few in his life. Not many and none have felt like this. Yes, it's a hug. Even if it is just one arm, and because Harry is shorter than him he is more of yanked lower by it. 

“Of course, we're back to being friends right?”

Such a strange way to describe whatever this was between them.

“Yes.” Tom can easily agree to that if it means getting out of this hold. 

“Good.” Harry sighs leaning into him, and so it seems that it won’t end anytime soon. They keep that position for a few minutes before Tom has eventually had enough. 

“You can let go of me.” Tom feels like his arm and his neck is going to be stiff if he is kept this way. 

“A few minutes longer.” Harry mutters, “least until you stop looking like I shot your cat.” 

“I don’t have a cat.” Tom scuffs. 

“Don’t let Loki hear you say that.” Harry has loosened his grip but has yet to release him. And perhaps because he feels that it is his fault that Harry had to bare his soul to him. Tom lets him hold on even if it would be much easier and better for his health if he were to just shove Harry away. 

~/*\~

Severus Snape had been invited to this party, purely because he is Draco’s Godfather. There is no way that he is able to make any of the donations that would have been needed to attend the event on his humble salary. The Malfoys had always been close friends, but it was elevated after the war as they both were trying to keep themselves out of Azkaban, even if they both truly deserved to got there. He had a feeling that besides his near family-like status that he was invited to help keep an eye on Draco. Severus would never allow anything horrible to happen to the other and Narcissa knew this. Out of all the Malfoys he gets along best with her. 

Lucius is not an evil person, but he is not necessarily a good person. He had been brought into the Death Eaters because his father had believed in the cause. His father had been a very active supporter one of the first and had been loyal to a fault to a madman. The loyalty ran so deep that Severus had no doubt that he would have killed his own son to appease the Dark Lord. His son had grown up with stories of how wonderful that it was in the service and had joined as a way to gain more power, more influence for his family. Lucius had goals that at one point sounded very much in line with the depths of anger that Severus had felt. They had bonded over their hate for Muggles and their hate for the Ministry and its incompetence. For the most part, Lucius after the war had made a name for himself, by bringing the old ways back. He had never wavered from his ideals, but he was far from the days that he was a Death Eater. He had a son now, he had a family to think of, and as such he did his best to be a better father than his was, prepare his son should the Dark Lord rise again as Lucius knew that he would not be able to escape his fate but with training, Draco could keep himself safe. 

Draco was a soft but prideful boy, his mother had been a very heavy influence on him. His inquisitive and perhaps nosy behaviors had gotten him close to Marvolo and Harry tonight, though he insists that nothing had happened. Severus had noted the way that Lucius had moved quickly to intervene. He, much like Dumbledore and Severus himself, must have sensed that something was not quite right with Marvolo. 

He was either the son of Voldemort as was claimed ready to pick up the mantle or he really was Voldemort in disguise. Severus had seen the Ministry documents that Albus had acquired before the restraining order made it so that he had to take more under the radar approaches to obtaining evidence for his claims. 

Severus was not sure what to think. From a document, blood, and legal standpoint. Marvolo was a well educated, sheltered, child. And given the situation should he really be the son of he-that-shall-not-be-named. It made sense to hide him. People would have just after the war thought killing an innocent child would bring somehow justice to the situation. The sins of the father, carrying over to the son was not a new idea, and there would be some idiot that would have thought that was a good way to hurt Voldemort as if the other could have felt for anyone but himself.

Harry had vouched for Marvolo which had a lot of sway in certain circles. They had been according to some held together for a while. It would be something that a few former Death Eaters Severus knows would do, hold the most powerful seeming upcoming wizards there was, and brainwash them into fighting for the ‘right’ side of things. However, to keep such a thing a secret would not be an easy task, and he is sure that he would have known should the action have been taken. The whole thing feels off and makes Albus’s assurances that Harry needs to only see the evil that this possible Voldemort replica was and the threat he poses not exactly as possible. There was too much unknown about both of them. And Severus took the night to watch them the best that he could and overhear what was able to be overheard. 

There is something a lot more human to Marvolo than there was to the Voldemort that Severus had come to serve. Voldemort had been quick to anger, cold, explosive, but also calculating and when in control of his emotions impossible to read. Marvolo looked annoyed most of the time but not murderous, there was a pride that he carried himself with that reminded him so very much of Draco, but Marvolo did not lack tact when talking with others or making requests. All the people that he talked to tonight described him as charming, charismatic, and very close with one Harry Potter. Which is very concerning regardless, if it is an act or not. 

Severus had heard of the way that the Dark Lord took people to join him in the old days, he had been a perfect student, kind, seeming, and friendly to everyone. Much like Marvolo with the exception of he did show signs when he was no longer wanting to be part of an interaction. His eyes never traveled far from Harry, he was kept close. And up until some seeming argument between them, Harry had seemed very fine with following him around to groups of people. Albus claims that it isn’t possible that Voldemort felt love, but then Albus hasn’t seen the way that Marvolo seems to be captivated by Potter. 

He had heard only a bit of Drunk Sirius’s talk with Marvolo and it seemed that Marvolo really did have both the people that he lived with under his spell. Though it hardly looked like acting the way he seemed upset about fighting with Harry. 

It's confusing, and makes him want to confront the very drunk Black, though if the werewolf is involved in this mess as well there is a chance that he could run point and deflect any of his questions. It’s not like Severus has a real claim on Harry other than the life debt and he doubts that is exactly the best reason for the two of them to hear him out. However… there is a chance that he could sway them slightly, especially if he is able to reveal that he is the one that tipped Harry off to the tracking spells. Having two adults that cared about Harry, and that Harry seemed to care for would be far greater allies than Albus that seemed to slowly be losing it. 

~/*\~

 _The golden sun pokes through the high clouds, that shift in the heavy breeze creating new and different shapes. He can not concentrate on the different shapes that are forming. The boy lays there under them and doesn’t care that they darken. He has never minded rain. He just wishes that he could move to get out of it. Everything hurts, hurts from where his larger than an elephant cousin has hit him with gorilla-like hands and stomped on his hands that are far too small. His glasses are a broken tangled mess on the ground next to him. And he can feel the places where the glass has cut his face. He hopes that it heals._

_He turns himself over so that all he sees are the clouds, he can't see them well but he knows that they are there, he watches them through blurred glassy eyes. He has lost the ability he thinks to cry in situations like this. It's best not to make others notice him either._

_He feels the grass flatten next to him and turns his head. There is another boy that is sitting next to him. He looks at him with the same beat-up face and blood dripping down his nose. Where Harry looks defeated, the other boy is smiling despite his fat lip and missing tooth._

_“They won’t come back.” The boy laughs holding himself around the waist. His laughter is that of someone that is half-mad. He lays down and kicks his feet out. The grass swallows him just slightly and he recognizes the other boy._

_Harry has had a dream like this a few times before. He recognizes the feeling now. It was when he had seen a few of Tom’s nightmares, one that he has shared more and can almost remember talking to the other in._

_Tom stops smiling as largely as he sits up, perhaps aware that they are sharing a dream and that it has not happened since Harry had made Tom a body._

_“Is this your dream or mine.” The boy takes on a level of maturity that doesn’t suit his features. But Tom and Harry are much older than this form would be, and he sits up no longer feeling as much pain from it as it is only a dream._

_“Mine I think.” Harry looks off towards the park that is past this field. “I think I was dreaming about my cousin and his friends playing Harry hunting.”_

_“Harry hunting.” Tom shakes his head. “That is a ridiculous name of a game.”_

_“Yes and it's far from fun.” Harry runs a hand over his glasses and they repair themselves._

_“You should have stood up to them.”_

_“Yes and that would have gone well when there were 4 of them and only 1 of me.”_

_“I have faced worse odds even before Magic.” The boy brings up his legs. “The second that you let them know that they got to you, the second that you give up, they have won.”_

_“Is that how your nose got broken.” Harry gestures at the blood that has stopped dripping on Tom’s otherwise cute face._

_“Yes but they are in far worse shape than I am, and they will not try it again if they know what's good for them.” Tom wipes at his face, just smearing it worse than before._

_They are quiet under the gray sky and just sit there. It is peaceful. Harry wishes for a broom so that he could fly up in it regardless of the rain._

_“Do you dream of Harry hunting often?” Tom asks him, breaking the silence._

_“No, as for nightmares or bad dreams this isn’t much of anything.” Harry admits. “If my mind wants to bring something to terrify me it will bring up the Battle of Hogwarts.”_

_“Battle of Hogwarts?” Tom’s small face contorts with the weight of his frown and brow furrowing._

_“It happens after I have hunted every Horcrux down and destroyed them, all but one.” Harry points at his head. “The other version of you, has tracked me to Hogwarts as I had gotten the Diadem. It was then that I learned the only way to defeat you was to die and have the shard destroyed with me. I was prepared for it. I walked into the forbidden forest with my head held high, because I foolishly thought that it would be the end of it. That I would be at peace. You know how well that turned out. I came back and killed you, and then Ginny kills me.”_

_Harry shrugs at Tom’s troubled expression. “That part doesn’t really bother me. It's the parts that lead up to that. Snape in the shrieking shack, among other deaths, plays themselves over. The battle had claimed hundreds of lives, I saw friends, family, and the like die by rubble that had fallen, killing curses, and werewolves, or dementors kisses. I dream sometimes about Lavender brown and her mauled face and cut open throat. I see little first years with their guts spread out on the floor of the great hall.”_

_Harry looked at the sky that was twisting to look like a very powerful storm, as the wind was picking up._

_“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I never would have wanted the magically able and young of our kind to die.”_

_“That You was less than a percent of yourself, he had given up all emotions at that point besides rage if I were to take a guess.” Harry smiled at him. “You are much better than he will ever be.”_

_“I don’t like to think that I could have sunk that low… I wanted to get rid of the parts that made me weak. That was the point of Horcruxes and the ability to live forever to preserve our world. I never thought that it would take all of my reasoning.”_

_“Our emotions play a role in the way we make decisions, if you cut out sadness then you could not comprehend the death that was caused nor the impact that it had on others, take away the feeling of compassion and it leaves no room for mercy, it's all a slippery slope.”_

_Tom opens his mouth as if to say something and then. Tom starts to cry out. The little boy that was in front of him disappears in an anguished scream._

Harry jerks awake as he feels blows being slammed into him as something thrashes, and then hits the floor hard. His tied mind catches up with him that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa on Tom and the other, must have followed him soon after. He rubs at his cheek. Feeling at the forming bruise that is there, completely stunned for a moment. 

Tom is on the carpet writhing. Screaming on what must be the top of his lungs, crying and clawing at the fluffy strands. He is kicking out, and curling in on himself tightly, protectively. It is as if he has been hit with a crutio. The Diary is laying still shrunk and close by from where it has fallen out of Tom's pocket. Harry has to cast a spell to deafen the noise as there is no way that the whole world could not hear this. Tom doesn’t even sound human. No human should make those sounds. He is weeping and his voice gives out, as he continues to make anguished cries. He is a whimpering mess that Harry doesn’t know how to help. 

He almost thinks that it would be better if Tom passed out, as he seems to be in unmeasurable pain. It is much like when he had been feeding Dumbledore the poison. All he can do is hold onto the person that is there, and pet him on the back as he softly cries, and shakes horribly and clings to him like he is a toddler. Promise that things will get better as he reaches for his wand and tries to run a diagnostic spell. 

“Make it stop please….” Tom begs him. “Please… please...please” 

Tom's one hand has a grip on his wrist and it is bruising with the pressure that is on it, the other is clinging to his robes, as he continues to jerk and spasm. Harry can not sense any poisons in him, not potions, not curses, no spells, nothing that is out of the ordinary. And it terrifies him as he has no idea what is wrong and there is no way to help him. And yet he wants to help, he desperately wants to make it stop. The harsh movements become less, though the sakes do not subside.

“It hurts…” It is all the mess that is Tom repeats over and over and over again in a horse cracking voice. “Why does it hurt so much…?” 

He cries harder still and with whatever energy that he has, tightening his grip on Harry’s robes. The words starting to sound like false promises if only it would stop. Harry keeps telling him that it will be over soon. Even though he has no idea if it will be. The voice is not really Tom’s it sounds so much like a child, vulnerable, scared, alone, and begging him to make it stop. It dies down softer and softer until there is no voice at all. Just choked wet chest wrenching sobs and even those die down. 

Harry has never in his life felt so helpless. 

“Death.” Harry calls, as Tom’s heart rate is slowing as the cries stop. Words fail him on how scared he is to ask. Tom coughs and blinks the last of the tears from his reddened brown eyes. There is a swirl of black that forms the being that he knows. Who is wearing a small smile, eyes dancing in the dim lights of the library.

 **Congratulations Riddle on mending one of the six shards that you have created.** Death bows to them. **I did warn you about the largest of them did I not?**

Tom, who is still very out of it, blinks again hard as if to try and focus. 

**Here I was thinking that the largest one with its own personality and such large soul quantity would cause issues as it mended. As I was sure that its personality and yours would have clashed especially if you had placed it with the rest of the shards. But congratulations are definitely in order Riddle, as you have failed to disappoint you skipped that step altogether and simply just accepted that it was part of you, accepted that you have doubts, insecurities, vulnerabilities, and flaws.**

“It hurts…” Tom manages, looking like he is about to pass out. He actually looks like he really had died, he probably feels like it to. Harry holds him a little tighter to himself, even if the danger is pasted now. 

**But of course it does, a soul, and a heart's a heavy burden as they say. I would say gaining half of it back at once nearly killed you.**

Death does not sound anything but excited by the venture, if not amazed. Which really isn’t what the situation needs. The only worse thing that the being of Death could be doing in this situation is to use jazz hands and confetti to announce his celebrative move. Harry isn't sure that he wants to witness Tom ever accepting part of himself back as Death calls it again. He feels sick, as it is like he has watched someone being tortured. 

Tom turns slightly so that his face is covered and the tears that he has are wiped on Harry’s knee. His breathing is shallow, and he looks like sleep is seconds away from taking him. Which is what he needs and Harry makes sure to tell the other what he is going to do. He is going to move him. He gently shifts, feeling the weight of someone larger than him crushing his small form. He curses a little at the pain in his wrist where there are very defined finger-sized bruises. Tom loosens his hold on him at least. 

“I’ll help you to bed Tom.” Harry tells him softly. “You need to rest.” 

Death waves his goodbye as he happily disappears. 

Tom doesn’t argue because Harry is almost a hundred percent sure that he is unable to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After many rewrites, and many frustrated downing of whole teapots worth of chai we have another installment. I think I scared my girlfriend with my obsessive need to pester her about my plot points and my notebook worth of bullet points. She is the reason this chapter is being posted honestly. She said Dawn just post the damn thing, it's good. ( or is it as the crazy mind goes) 
> 
> I think it has to do with the fact that I love these two and just want to have them interact and click, but making that believable and fun is a lot harder sometimes than one would think. Heavy things are hard for me to write some times as a very upbeat person. It also maybe because I am a person that likes to read over and over and obsess over a chapter if I know that it will be a tough one. But Tough ones must exist to get to the things that I enjoy aka the next installment. 
> 
> Curse breaking and Basilisk Venom (I am sure that Harry has missed Quirrell and the king of Serpents has missed Tom) 
> 
> I hope that you like this one and I hope to see you all again soon!


	13. Curse breaking and Basilisk Venom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry get a little closer despite what others may think of their relationship and set about to destroy an object for Death.

Darkness greets him, he has to force his eyelids to open as they feel like they each weigh a hundred pounds. He blinks and finds that he is staring at the dark green canopy of his bed. The blankets are pulled up to just below his shoulders. And all he can do is tilt his head to the side, as he feels like he has been trampled and then run over. Then perhaps the process has been repeated a few more times for good measure, just to make sure that the message was clear. Everything is stiff just like when he had been reborn into this body. He slowly moves to his side, feeling the aches go from his stomach and pelvic area all the way to his limbs that feel like limp noodles. He lets them tingle with slow movements, testing the pain and he finds it tolerable. 

He hisses softly, he has never been hit with a crucio for more than a few seconds as he has always had the ability to dodge and block unfriendly spells. But he imagines this must be what his followers would have felt after a particularly bad torture session after an inexcusable failure. Harry is sitting in a chair that must have been transfigured, his breathing if soft and his face is buried into Tom’s blankets. His black hair reminds him of a porcupine with the way the static has added to the curled up cowlicks that poke in different directions. Voldie is under the chair, sound asleep paws covering bare ears. Loki is on the pillow by his face. She cracks her green eyes open and then shuts them in a move that is very much like Tom feels like doing. 

Going back to sleep seems like a good idea. But then he has no idea what time it is, and his throat hurts and is dry. Drinking something sounds even better than falling back to sleep. 

His chest feels heavy and his tired mind tries to remember exactly what happened, he remembers being in the library and Harry sleeping on him and thus pulling him when he had rested his eyes into a dream. Yes, they had talked about a battle and he had wished… He had wished that he had never made the first Horcrux for one moment, he had been completely remorseful for creating something that would destroy the very few things that besides himself that he wanted to protect and for making Harry’s life horrible beyond measure. 

_To mend a soul, one has to feel remorse._

It was a footnote, in the book he had read to start his journey towards immortality. Harry had said it to him in turn as well. The way to save his soul was to truly be remorseful for his actions. To heal that amount of damage one had to accept it, feel it, repent for it, and feeling that sort of regret could kill a person. And considering that he was still alive it hadn’t, but he had wanted to die at that moment. He never wanted to as much as he had when it had started. 

He has mended how much of his soul?

One part of six or more than that? And he almost died for perhaps only one shard... He knows that he will have to go through it again if he wants a full soul if he is to have a chance at a better afterlife. But he never wants to go through that again. He is sure that it will kill him and he is very sure that he does not want to die. 

His chest tightens painfully, and he feels almost sick. This is awful, he grips at his hair, burying his fingers into the sweaty locks and puts pressure on his head trying to remember what Death had said past the pain that he had felt. He had thought he had known agony as a wraith but that had not even been comparable. He knows that is why Harry is here now, why he is sleeping soundly, having stayed up to help him no doubt. 

What happens if he does die in this form? Harry had tethered his conciseness to this body, what happened should this body no longer function? Did the part that was him just return to the wraith form? He didn’t have a real fear of that until he had gone through it. 

There is the sound of things shattering and a few things pull themselves from his shelves and hit the ground with loud thuds and crashes. He hardly notices the noise over the sound of his own heart beating and the rush of magic that feels him. 

“Hey, don’t hurt yourself.” Harry pulls on his hands, taking them in his and away from his head. The things that were still floating fall. He watches them fall and then looks at Harry who is very much in his personal space. He feels the warmth of the other's hands, they are slightly sweaty. Harry has a large bruise across his face. It's red with a faint trace of purple and he can not help but stare at it. Stare at the way that the colors blend into something angry, and ugly. Harry lets go after making that eye contact and Tom is sure that he isn’t going to unleash worried magic in the near future. The warmth fades the moment that he lets go and Tom, almost wishes that he would have held on. 

“Your face is bruised.” It slips out, as it is not what he had expected to see. He knows that the only one that could have done it was him, even if he has no memory of it. 

“It's what happens when someone’s elbow collides with the side of your face. It’s nothing.” Harry smiles a little. “Congratulations on healing more than half your soul.”

“It certainly didn’t feel like being healed,” Tom says bitterly and shakes his head. No, it had felt like ripping and tearing. He shudders thinking about it, gripping the bedspread hard. 

“I’m sure.” Harry's smile falters. “It's a good thing that you're a tough bastard or I am sure that it would have killed you.” 

“You can't get rid of me.” Tom doesn’t particularly like the frown the other has on his face, He is fine. And considering it seems to be their motto to point out that neither of them is going anywhere it seems appropriate. 

“At least you know that your magic works now.” Harry changes the subject quickly, and Tom appreciates it because he would rather talk about near anything else than what landed him bed rest. He shakes himself clear of the dread and the crawling fear in his gut. Enough to look at the mess that his magic has made. 

“Yes.” He agrees, slowly smiling. “Though if it doesn’t work as intended, you're going to have a lot of things to repair.” 

Harry shakes his head. “I will be handing you a broom in that case.” 

“But what if I liked some of those ugly cat figurines that you brought me, they are now smashed beyond anything short of a repair spell.” Tom laughs at Harry’s expression, unable to try and keep a straight face. 

“I would think that you were lying about liking them. I just bought them as a joke.” Harry recovers. 

“They were still one of the few things that you have given me, the fact that you took time out to find such ugly ones, regardless of how much was spent to buy them proves that you thought of me.” Tom hates them really, but they are something to personalize his room and something that Sirius had made him appreciate the meaning behind just slightly. 

Harry’s face heats up a tad. “Yes well, only the best of the worst for you.” He stands and fetches Tom’s wand for him as he attempts to get out of bed. It feels like he is again remembering how to move limbs. He notices that the Diary is on his nightstand and plans on reading though the old pages that are charmed for only him to read. 

He takes his wand from Harry, it feels better in his hand then it had when he had first grasped it from its hiding place beneath the fallen tree in Harry’s parents front yard, one of the few things that had not been destroyed and hardly a place that it would have been looked at for such a precious belonging. It almost made Wormtail a competent follower, almost.

He raises his wand and repairs the cat with a donut on its face first, and then a few of the other larger shattered figurines, the lamp, and the clock's face are next. He then sends books towards their places. His core feels strong, not nearly as much magic in reserves as he used to have. But he can handle more than first-year spells which is reassuring. He doesn’t know if he needs his wand to complete these spells or not, perhaps he should have tried a few wandlessly before he set about fixing his room. It mattered little in the scheme of things, there was for sure going to be more opportunities to use wandless magic in the future. 

~/*\~

Harry leaves so Tom can be the first to take a shower and get dressed in something other than his dress robes, as Harry had just put him to bed, he didn’t feel like trying to dress him in nightwear. Harry himself was in bed ware, but he had no urge to change that. He would after he had some food or perhaps he will just head back to sleep. Sleep sounded so nice at the moment. He was pretty sore from laying the way that he had been waiting for Tom to get up. 

There is an owl pecking at the window. It keeps it up until Harry reluctantly takes the letter from its beak as well as the paper. There was a letter from Remus explaining that Sirius would be home soon as he had been heavily drunk and Remus was not able to get past the wards that were in place and didn’t trust Sirius to apparate let alone walk up the stairs himself. At least he was in good company. 

The paper unsurprisingly had the front page news of Malfoy's charity ball. He is there with Tom on the bottom half of the page. It was a rather good picture of them dancing, Harry would admit that Tom looked very smug in it. It was hard to see his own face at the angle it was taken but he was sure that he was smiling and or frowning about something that the other said, with Tom, it was about a fifty, fifty chance. 

________________________________________

 **Power Couple Breaking Up?**

_By Rita Skeeter_

Little is known about the relationship between known savior and hero of the Wizarding World and the son of He-who-shall-not be-named. Yes dear readers it was confirmed, just this past week, that Marvolo Tomas Guant is the biological child and heir of the evilest and notorious Dark Wizard of our times. What Harry sees in the child of the man that killed his parents is debatable. One thing is for certain, young Harry is only 13 while Marvolo will be of age in December. Such an age gap has not been seen for some time in the appropriate dating circles. One could call into question if Lord Gaunt is taking advantage of our little hero’s heart. 

Rumor has it that Death Eaters kidnapped both boys when they were young and held them to try and train them to be the next Dark Lord. Speculation and reliable sources tell us that kidnapping and holding a child with another child is a way to form deep decency, in order to cope with the horrors and situation at hand. Was that Marvolo’s Father’s possible followers' goal? Introduce a Traumatized Harry Potter and have him befriend someone that would be equally as powerful and no doubt be sure to influence him negatively? I can not say, but I plan on investigating further my dearests and will keep you updated with my latest findings. 

Harry Potter and Marvolo Gaunt showed up as a couple to the Malfoy charity ball with perhaps plans for a fine evening. However, towards the end of the party. Witnesses overheard them fighting about progressing their relationship as Harry stormed off, we can see Sirius comforting the possible new rising Dark Lord rather than his own Godson…. (more on page 11)  
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Harry wants to rip the paper to shreds then burn it. He had expected nothing less of a foul woman like Rita. She always was there to twist things, and blatantly lie when it suited her purposes. Tom who has damp hair raises an eyebrow as he sees Harry all but crumpled the paper into the smallest ball that he can manage. Tom sits slowly.

“What made you so upset, that you forgot the important task of asking Kreacher to start on food?” 

Harry tosses the ball that he has made to him. Tom catches it with ease. 

“Rita Skeeter has decided to write quite the slanderous piece on our relationship.” Harry tries to keep his voice calm as he says it but fails as there is a distinct note of dangerous anger there. It's not his fault that he is remembering all the things that the woman wrote about him during the Triwizard Tournament. He just wants to be left alone, most people that wrote about him at least bothered to fact check. 

“Oh?” Tom tilts his head, slowly going about unballing the thing. 

“I really hate that woman.” Harry hisses, almost slipping into the language of snakes as he says it. He really does. “It's bad enough that she has to try and run your name through the mud, but she had to add Sirius to that, and has the nerve to get my age wrong as well as all the other important details.”

“Give me a second to try and read through it, before you throw around more accusations.” Tom stares him down. “I am sure that if there are large namable issues that we could move to press charges or make up a lawsuit against her. Especially if she is making it seem as bad as you say.” 

Harry actually smiles a little at Tom’s calmness about it all. Of course, as he asks Kreacher nicely to make them food, he can tell that Tom’s relaxed attitude about the whole thing is quickly changing. He goes from calm to slightly red in the face to fingers twitching with the need to use his wand, and then back to a near-perfect mask. Harry has learned from experience this is when a person really has to be worried; when Tom makes it seem like he is completely fine with something that before he was showing aggression over. He is just surprised that Tom seems to have been able to make it through the whole article. Or was it generous to call it something like that? 

“Harry,” Tom says after about 10 minutes and his first cup of tea. “Would it be alright if I practice a few curses on Mrs. Skeeter.”

“I would like that but then I would have to alter her memory and that can be a hassle.” Harry shrugs. “He can’t say that he wouldn’t like to teach her a lesson, but it was probably not in their best interest to try anything like that. 

“I would be nothing too extreme, just a few slicing ones and then one killing curse to the face. There wouldn’t need to be any need for any mind alterations then, or I could try my hand at it. I do need practice rooting around in people's heads again.” Tom proposes, this as if he was just asking to talk to Harry about the weather. One could make the comparison that a Tigers could be well fed and cared for at the zoo, but it was still a predator and even good behavior or acting kind did not make it any less of the truth. Tom after all could not change his stripes, Harry could only try to make it so that there wasn't an opportunity to strike someone down. 

Harry shook his head. “What happened to moving a case against her for slander?” 

“It wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as hitting her with an unforgivable.” Tom stirs in some more sugar into his Black Tea. 

“We're not hitting her with one or more of those types of spells. Not only are we trying to lay low but it would look highly suspicious if we were to kill her after a particularly terrible article about us.” Harry disagrees smiling slightly though at Tom’s dark brand of humor. 

“That is why dear Harry we would wait a couple of months.” Tom smiled sweetly at him. 

“She really isn’t worth the hassle. I suppose that I could easily blackmail her with the knowledge that she is not a registered Anamagus and remind her that beetles are easy enough to crush by accident.”

Tom hums at this, “add that to the possible lawsuit that we should have drawn up and I say that we have a good case of making it sure that we never have these sorts of issues again. I can’t have my good name run into the ground if I wish to get involved in politics.”

“She probably has made a lot of people that you seemed to be making friends with last night upset.”

“I doubt it, loyalty is not earned by simply a few conversations. Most would turn with few exceptions if they thought that their reputation was on the line. However, if we put it out there the truth so to speak about the whole thing through another source, and file the lawsuit. I stand a good chance of getting back on even or greater footing.”

“I suppose it would matter how detailed and as they say juicy we make that interview.”

“I think I hate that word used in that context, juicy. Who uses that as an adjective?” Tom’s eye twitches with the idea. 

“I don’t know reporters?” Harry shrugged. “When that Rita bitch took me to the broom closet for a private interview she said that word about 7 times before it was over… that came out wrong.”

“Yes, it did.” Tom narrowed his eyes. “Did she give you just as bad a press service as this time around?”

“About the same to be honest. In the past, she accused me of putting my name in the Goblet of Fire on purpose, called me a liar, and made it seem like I was a traumatized child crying about the loss of my parents, even got my birthday wrong. I really particularly hated the way that Draco would quote bits and pieces out of it, that were made up things that I said. For future reference, let it be known that if I am crying it is not because of emotional pain but the physical kind. 99.8% of the time.”

“Right.” Tom shifts in his seat. “The question is who would we do an interview with if we were to do one. And what should be our collaborative story?”

“I will leave the details up to you, as you are a far better liar than I will ever be.” Harry shrugs. “I do think that being held together is our best option as it can make us seem very sympathetic and show a connective bond that wouldn’t break regardless of the supposed pressure that we were placed under.”

“The trick is only to use half-truths and loopholes Harry, good lies come from a grain of truth. But for the sake of this article and interview in the making, give me a few hours and I can create a work of art out of this.” 

~/*\~

And so Tom sets himself up in the library at his desk to get to work on planning out their Tragic, yet hopeful and inspiring backstory. He goes through a few drafts as he needs it to be detailed enough that it was believable, but brief enough that he would not be writing them into any corners. They needed to make it so that anything that they said would not contradict the narrative, and leave space to be flexible with answers. Harry was going to have to practice the script enough that it doesn’t sound like he is faking answers or relying on Tom too much to fill in the gaps. 

Sirius comes home late afternoon with Remus, that Harry for some reason sees fit to give access to the wards. He is at least relieved to see that Harry is smart enough to wear a glimmer to cover the mark that he has accidentally made on the other's face. He has a feeling that there was no good way to explain it, and if they knew that he did it they would possibly believe the drivel that Rita was spreading. Obviously not the part where he was turning Black to the dark side of magic, or encouraging him to follow in his family's footsteps and have vengeance on the Light and Ministry for what they did to him, but definitely the other things. 

As much as he wants to say that he does not care what Sirius and Remus think of him it is not true. Harry holds them close to his heart and Tom because of his wonderfully mended soul can recognize that if it comes down to a choice that Harry will pick those that he considered family at one point or another over him. Which makes the way that Remus is looking at him all that more concerning, as Tom has a very good inkling that the man doesn’t like him. It probably doesn’t help that Harry has taken their talk to mean that he can sit closer to him and lean on him when he feels like it. Tom likes the affection well enough, the warmth passes through him better this way. He just is not sure that he will like the talk that a completely sober Black will surely want to have with him over it. As they have transcended perhaps friendship, even if Harry is calling it that at the moment. 

~/*\~

Sirius can not help himself from being concerned. There has been a shift in the relationship between his Godson and Marvolo. They are closer somehow, after whatever falling out that they had suffered through. He would have been happy about it if Remus and his unwanted talking partner hadn’t made him a little on edge about the whole thing. 

He likes Marvolo which is not something that he really thought would end up happening all things considered. He was the son of Voldemort, he was overly polite, clingy to Harry, and the kind that was quick to both anger and to complain. He carried that pureblood attitude about being better than Muggles, and others. But Sirius would admit that his dry, and perhaps dark humor had grown on him. Tom has a softness that comes up when he is alone with Harry or doesn’t think that Sirius is looking. He can tell that Harry is good for Tom as their conversations are arguments, but Sirius has started to note that was the way that they connected best, and mostly was for fun. They would pass witty comments back and forward like it was a tennis match, sharing some brand of humor that was rooted in context that only they knew. Harry was happiest with Tom, he was more relaxed in public if the other was at his side. Harry initiated touch with Marvolo often taking his hand when he knew something was about to off tilt the other, or when they needed to go somewhere. Tom took Harry by the wrist, usually. 

Yes for all the good that Sirius has witnessed he does have some concerns, even before what Remus told him second hand from that shit Severus Snape that had approached him during the Malfoy Charity event. 

Godric knows that Sirius has a strong dislike for the greasy bastard. He used to be close to Lily until his closeness to her conflicted with the Malfoys. He won't forget the hours that Lily had cried over Severus calling her such a name. It was not particularly the single word spoken that made her unable to forgive him, but the ideology that was associated with it. The way that the idiot had been hanging around people that were against her very existence. It had been like the ultimate betrayal that he called her that to her face, confirming that perhaps he thought her to be that filthy word or called her it behind her back. He knew that seedy git had been a Death Eater, and regardless of life debts or good intentions with the warning of how unhinged Dumbledore seemed to be getting these days. Sirius would not trust someone that had changed sides, mid-war, to become a spy. He had enough of spies. 

Yes but now that the idea has been placed in his head. And now he can see the cracks in the relationship and if it were to ever fail, how they both would be damaged beyond repair. The dependency they have with each other, the way that they don’t need anyone else, Tom especially. Sirius can see the way that he has little regard for anyone. He does seem to show that father-like quality, he could smile but unless it was with Harry, they all looked fake, as was his pleasantries. His anger bleeds into things that shouldn’t have bothered him, Marvolo is like a little kid. He wants Harry to himself and doesn’t like sharing, even if he does allow for it. 

Tom would have to put up with him a little longer, at least till he can get Remus off of his new insane worry that Marvolo was Voldemort. Such a thing couldn’t be true. But the glimmer that Harry is wearing is a little worrying, so is the way that Marvolo seems more attached than before. Perhaps that real dive to a relationship has happened. Now they possibly were confident enough for more public displays. Which is fine if they kept it innocent. But Sirius really doesn’t know if he trusts that they even knew the meaning of that word.

He still has no real answers for what happened to both of them, just evidence by their movements. He wants to trust them, he wants to be sure that he is doing this parenting thing correctly, or perhaps just being like the cool uncle that keeps tabs, god he feels old. He just wants Harry to be safe and that is it. Harry really is all that he has, well that and Remus but they are still building back their friendship. Sirius can’t help but feel hurt when he thinks that the other had believed him to have turned. 

He watches the way that Harry and Marvolo interact and becomes more and more invested in seeing what was under the glimmer, even if he feels like in his gut he already knows.

~/*\~

Tom plays well for a couple of hours worth of talking. He entertains Lupin’s ideas about upcoming registrations and regulations that further restrict werewolves just fine. Harry can even be slightly impressed with Tom’s agreement that the law currently is a misrepresentation of the people infected with lycanthropy. He excuses himself after a while with the excuse that he needs to study for the upcoming school year. It is nearing September and Harry is aware that if Sirius has not left that he will need to introduce him to Death in human form. He really was hoping to avoid that.

Remus casts a muffling charm the minute that Tom has made it to the library and they hear the click of the door. Harry feels as if the room's temperature has dropped a few degrees. 

“Harry, would you like to explain why you are wearing glimmers?” Sirius folds his arms and sets a frown on his face, which is very unbecoming of the person that has been so fun-loving all summer. Harry tilts his head pretending to be confused. 

“Don't try to deny it. Please...I have seen enough of them from my days at Hogwarts to detect the slight magical differences and used it to pull a few very crafty pranks in my time. Exposing people that had used small ones to cover acne or just making a few awful moles appear for a little bit.” Sirius continues. “Yours is large so I know that you're hiding something under it that is big.”

Sirius and Remus are going to interpret this completely the wrong way and there was no good way to give them context to this. He had to think up a lie and think it up fast. What was it that Tom said? The best lies had a truth to them. 

“Is it Marvolo?” Remus asked. “You can tell us, he seems to have a few anger issues if last night, and what Sirius has described over the summer was anything to go by.” 

Harry wonders just how long they had been discussing the possibility of it after Sirius had gotten himself sober and they had decided to possibly read the paper. He never made it all the way through but knowing Rita she would have said something along the lines of how devastated Harry was and how angry Tom was. If they were only concerned with some of the things, they would be worried now with the way that they seemed to be good at detecting glimmers. Sirius had been very good at reserving judgment, but if he saw a bruise he could misinterpret all the times that Tom did get annoyed and a little handsy by yanking him places. Harry really would have to talk to him about that. 

“Tom did not mean to do it,” Harry said plainly and as calmly as possible. “And before you think the worst that I am defending an abuser I kindly ask you to look no further than my vocal outburst about the Dursleys and Dumbledore's ability to leave me there. I know you're only asking because you care, but I can assure you that Tom is far from abusive or a threat.”

Well perhaps that last one wasn’t true, Tom had magic again at least in short supply, enough to definitely be a threat but they didn’t need to know that. 

“We were simply concerned.” Remus bows his head. “I know that you don’t know me all that well Harry but I was studying before it came to light that I was a werewolf, for helping Magical children that suffered from abuse or similar settings as I know how some Wizards can turn on others when they learn that someone is a squib or has become a werewolf. I only noted a few things about Marvolo when we were at dinner such as his aggravation at us simply talking with you and the way that he dragged you to the dance floor are not necessarily healthy things. I did not mean for it to come out as a complete accusation. Sirius is in strong favor that Marvolo is not dangerous or a threat as you put it just possibly needs to learn how to better channel it.” 

Remus can try to put it as delicately as possible. Harry knows what he is fishing for, or at least trying to understand. Tom and Harry fight a lot, but it is what helps to shape them. None of it is physical. And yes Tom is easily angered and he can give outbursts that are uncalled for, he is possessive, and he is not a fan of people that are not named Harry, but it doesn’t mean that Tom would ever strike him in an attempt to get rid of it. A half a year ago maybe, but not now. He can't hate them for being concerned about Tom’s dependency on him and aggravation towards others. It probably looked far more concerning that Harry felt about it for someone that was on the outside looking in. Hell, Harry already knows that it's not exactly healthy their relationship, but he also can completely understand Tom's reasons for how he acts. 

Harry took off the glimmer as there was no point in having it there any longer. The bruise had started to heal well, and he was going to make a salve for it before Remus had decided to take Sirius home. If he had some it would have already been gone and there would never have had to be this conversation. Fate really did want to make more issues for him than normal. 

“Harry, that welt is…” Sirius starts.

“Nothing compared to the things that I am used to.” Harry defects. “Tom didn’t mean to, he just had a fit last night and before he started spasming on the floor, he managed to get me with an elbow.”

That causes Remus and Sirius at least to back off on their verbal attack to find the truth. A truth that really wasn’t there. Tom wouldn’t purposely hurt him, Harry knows that to be true only because he had revealed that he has feelings for him. If anything Tom had looked like he was upset with the mark that he had made accidentally, which in Harry’s book is a step in the right direction for remorse even if it is only directed at things that impact Harry, himself, and no one else. 

“Does he get these fits often?” Sirius does sound very concerned, showing it was Remus that this conversation really was for as his concern is not just for Harry but Tom as well. 

“No.” Harry shakes his head, “But they can happen. I am sure that you noticed Sirius that he doesn't use Magic like you and me. When we were escaping from the place where we were held something went very wrong with his magical core. It was damaged. Since the incident we have been looking into ways to fix it, last night in his fit he made a few things float and crash so at least things are improving.”

Harry rubs his hands on his pant legs trying to sound as serious and truthful as possible. He doesn’t want to share too much, but he wants it to be believable. 

“I don’t want to talk about our imprisonment and the torture that I have witnessed Tom go through and the things that have happened to me. But trust me there are reasons that he is so very standoffish and easily annoyed. Don’t let him know that you know, it's really hard for someone that was so gifted at magic to go down to hardly being able to use it, for someone that was the protector to go to someone that needs help with apparition and even repairing charms. I admit that it makes him irritable, more so than he usually was. But with the things that happened to us, he has a bit of a right to be on edge and nervous about when we are in public settings and meeting people that our respective parents were close to.”

Harry hopes that his face he makes sells it, as there is some truth to it, but mostly a lie. 

Remus nodded slowly. “So you were held by some of he-that-shall-not-be-named followers, and they claimed to be close to his father?”

Sirius gives his friend a look that says I already told you that. 

“Yes.” Harry says simply, “and you can imagine how scary it would be to grow up in a home that expects you to be the next Dark Lord, that demands perfection from you, and where death is a constant companion. Things were hard for Tom long before I came along.” 

And the thing about that is it is pretty true. Tom grew up in one of the worst times in the world. He was crushed by his own ambitions to be more than what he was, a Dark Lord was simply the direction that he headed down to achieve this. Tom can tell him that it was for a different reason, but Harry still would stand by that opinion. Death was a constant companion at orphanages during the depression that had devastated Europe after the first world war, so were flues and other diseases. Harry doesn’t like his childhood, but he knows that in many ways Tom’s was worse. Those things left scars even if a person didn’t want to admit they did. 

Remus looks like he would like to press more on that, but doesn’t because perhaps he can see how tired Harry is getting of this conversation. Maybe he can read the way Harry doesn’t like to think about Tom’s childhood and recently the broken nose on probably around 6-year-old Tom. He wonders if the tooth that was missing was punched out or if it had just fallen out. 

“Why do you call him by his middle name?” Remus asks what probably will be his final question and it is a bit of an easier one to answer. One that Harry doesn’t mind at all, as even if it sounds weird to call Marvolo that by the circumstances, he can not help himself. 

“Because it's something that he only lets me call him.” Harry smiled. There is more to it of course but that is one of the main reasons. 

~/*\~

Things slip a bit back to normal after that. Sirius doesn’t treat Tom any differently than before and Tom is fine with the lie that Harry came up with, as it would help to explain should he have another healing moment in front of anyone in the future. August starts to wrap up and Harry can tell that Sirius is feeling comfortable enough to possibly be heading off on his own. He probably wishes to meet Morte before he leaves, knowing that Harry’s education is in good hands. But he feels like his freedom to just be around Tom, and act and talk freely is coming. 

Sirius is perhaps still a little wary at the very least of Tom’s politics because Tom is still a very strong believer that all Muggles were horrible and lesser than Wizards. He might be reconsidering Muggle-borns if only for the sake of the fact that he caused such death in the other timeline with the hatred towards them and the fact that Harry’s mother Lily was one and Harry will not have that held against her. But he was still pretty concerned with bringing back the old ways, even slightly forcibly if needed. And Sirius, Harry is sure is not really inclined to buy into some of his ideas. 

~/*\~

Tom sets himself and Harry up for an exclusive with Witch Weekly, even though Harry wants to give the Quibbler the exclusive only so he can watch everyone flounder about a bit with the need to support Lovegood and his conspiracy theories. Harry can insist as much as he wants that Nargles are real, but until Tom can see one himself and or has definite proof he is not believing anything that that paper puts out. He is up this morning earlier than normal and is sorting everything out, lest he can do it safely with his wand now. He makes a garbage pile and one for himself and another for Harry. He is about to toss one that it's addressed to Harrison Morte before he remembers that is Harry’s stupid alter ego. 

Harry snatches that letter first excitedly, as he slides into his seat. 

“Quirrell writes me the best letters,” Harry explains when Tom just fixes him a level gaze. “He always is asking for my feedback on lessons, and informs me about the latest guilds and such.”

“Guilds?” Tom shakes his head, as that sounds like another one of Harry’s attempts to pull his leg, about how times have changed in the 13 years that he was inactive. 

“I mean it sounds Medieval but there are a lot of countries that need curse breakers and hire out of their reign if needed. I did a couple of them when I was still collecting soul shards. It was more for fun and to see what kind of spells and enchantments might be protecting a few of your better-placed soul pieces. I ended up not really using any of it. I did manage to though talk Quirrell out of going into the woods and finding you though. I couldn’t have a repeat of the whole first year incident of my first life.” 

Harry puts some of the eggs onto his plate and reaches for the toast not bothering to butter it or anything and just chews on the corner. 

“Is that the year that I was on the back of someone’s head?” Tom tries to remember one of Harry's rambles about the other timeline that he had experienced, it helped as Harry had nightmares and had fallen asleep on him twice since the mending of his soul and it made little sense to him the flashes of things that he had witnessed. Some of these conversations at least helped to give context. 

“Yes, and I killed poor Quirrell.” Harry swallows and shakes his head. “I blame your influence for ruining such a pure soul. He is just too inquisitive for his own good, and couldn’t help himself from wanting to learn from you.

Tom snorted and decided to ignore Harry’s poor manners. “I think that regardless of the trade having to drink unicorn’s blood to survive the parasitic relationship is not worth anything that my other self told him.” 

“I am sure,” Harry said dryly. “Anyway let's see what he needs”

Harry opens the note and reads over it as he sips his tea. Tom busies himself with eating his food and listening to the soft music that comes from the radio on the countertop. Things have been a lot better music-wise since Harry was kind enough to put on channels that played the 50’s and 60’s Tom is much more fond of those days. He is not too big on the whole ‘pop’ thing. 

“Oh, he wants to break the curse you placed on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.” Harry smiles largely I suppose that would give me the opportunity to try and milk a Basilisk. I mean it’s not every day that I get invited into Hogwarts, usually, nowadays I have to sneak in.”

Tom coughs on his tea. “You want to milk my Basilisk?” 

“Images Tom.” Harry shakes his head, closing his eyes as if he has a bad picture in there. “I mean I need the venom for a side project. Don’t worry I’ve been reading about it and I am sure that I can get the needed amount no issues.” 

“You are not going down there, you're going to get yourself eaten or worse.” Tom narrows his eyes. He doesn’t want Harry anywhere near the thing. He isn’t the heir and there is no way that he would be able to keep himself from being attacked. Yes, Harry can’t really die, but he knows that Harry feels the pain of the death, and if his body is destroyed he has to be reborn. Things would get really uncomfortable if that was the case...

“Naw, I’ll be fine.” Harry finishes his toast, dusting his hands over his plate and starts woofing down his eggs. “You know that I faced it at 12 with a sword, this time I'll keep my wand on me.” 

“Not one of your finest moments dropping it by the way.” Tom disagrees because that was what Harry would do before he had the immunity to death, there was no telling what he would do now that he had a slight advantage. “What do you need the venom for?” 

“Death asked me to destroy something, and I agreed to do so after I was sure that the body I made you could regain magical ability. I have been putting off holding up my end of a bargain.”

“And this object is?” Tom doesn’t budge.

If Death wanted it destroyed then there is a high chance that it really is something to be concerned about. Especially if it was used to help him get a body back, that was no light magical feat. But it does bring up the question of what if he died again, and he wasn’t soul mended? 

Harry seems to notice his unease. “There are other ways to bring someone back. I don’t want to stoop to them, but if I had to I would.” He looks at him intently. “Death would not ask me to destroy this object unless it was really important that I do so.”

Tom considers for a moment pressing it, demanding to know exactly what this object is, but he decides the weight that is associated with Harry’s statement means something to him, enough to know that pushing it any further would just make him looks selfish as he probably will be told later on when Harry feels comfortable enough to reveal it. There is probably a good reason that he is not being told, perhaps Harry thinks it too much of a temptation?

“You're not going alone.” Tom decides, “I put a lot into that curse and I am the one that will break it. I will then help you with the collecting of the venom.”

Harry looks at him expectantly. 

“What?” He all but snaps.

“Is there a but to that, or in exchange?” Harry raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” Tom says calmly. “I am not doing it as a favor that needs to be repaid. I think it goes without saying that you have offered me great kindness already.”

“So what you are saying is that you're trying to be nice.” Harry nods. “I must admit that I am a little unused to this. Are you sure you are not doing it as repayment to me for something.” 

“Think whatever you want.” Tom sighed deeply pinching at his nose. 

“I choose to think it's because you're getting soft in your old age,” Harry smirks. 

Tom repays him with a small stinging hex. 

“Uncalled for.” Harry laughs rubbing his arm. 

“No, it was completely called for.” Tom smiles into his teacup. 

“Just one problem with you tagging along. Quirrell only knows me as Harrison Morte. How am I going to explain you?”

~/*\~

Oh, Tom was pissed with the solution, but that was what he got for tagging along. To think that he was the assistant or curse breaker in training just rubbed him completely the wrong way. Harry found it hilarious to have an intern with him. He had taken the age potion after making his excuses to Sirius and had Tom hold onto the cloak and a few other supplies in a bag that heightened his position as the assistant, as they would need it to slip to the chamber unnoticed later. 

Quirrell Great In them outside of the Hog's Head. Tom introduced himself and the introductions were kept brief. But on the way up to the castle, Harry and Quirrell catch up on their latest escapades. Harry hadn’t been really adventuring as much since Tom’s rebirth so there was not much to tell. Though he did say that he was getting better at acquiring books that he wasn’t supposed to have. A few of the titles greatly interested his curse-breaking friend. 

However, when they were just outside the wardsQuirinus shakes his head. “How long have you been taking age potions, Harrison?”

Tom has his wand ready to be drawn, but Harry is not too worried, even if the question takes him off guard a moment. “A while now.” 

He smiles feeling no real reason to hide it, as Quirrell had figured it out and there was no point in trying to deny something that could be proven when effects wore off.

“I had a feeling.” Quirinus deflates. “When I read the papers, I was struck with the realization that you had that same curse scar as the boy who lived, and then it just became impossible not to notice that you were the same person after that.”

“I’m sorry for deceiving you, but I have been breaking curses since I was 5 if it makes you feel better and nothing that I told you was outside of the things that I have done.”

“I really don’t doubt your capabilities, it's why I invited you.” Quirinus nods. “I just can’t believe that I am dealing with a magical genius, and went drinking with him on separate occasions.”

“And those nights were amazing.” Harry grins widely. 

“They were. I think that I have utterly embarrassed myself with some of them, but the ones that I didn’t I hold close to my heart. I still get side-eyed by Severus on occasion for your slight against him.” Quirinus agrees. “I Would like to keep doing them if it is acceptable with your partner of course.” 

The young man looks at Tom who has been oddly quiet during their conversation. Harry takes his hand in his and leans into him.

“He lets me do mostly what I like, and I let him do the same,” Harry speaks for Tom on that one. “And I am sure that flirting will die down now that you know.”

“You were flirting with Harry.” Tom manages to almost sound both intimidating and conversational at the same time. It is a thing that Harry never thought was possible, but it certainly was a tone for the history books. 

Quirrell covers his face with his hands completely red. “In my defense, it was just really poor attempts at it and he was supposedly older than me when we met, and while I still hold him in high esteem as my friend. I certainly do not wish to date someone that is the age of some of my students. Heavens the thought makes me slightly sick.” 

Harry mouths softy to Tom as he tilts his head towards Quirinus that Tom now doesn’t see at all as a threat. 

“It's quite alright. Harry can be quite the charmer.” Tom smiles slightly. “He was not exactly honest with me on who he was when we first met either.”

“Because you could have used that as a reason to get to know me.” Harry now feels like he is on the defensive. 

“Whatever you say, Harry.” Tom denies that accusation rather boldly. Harry considers pushing him into the mud puddle a few feet from where they were standing. He had the height advantage and size advantage currently. 

“Ah well we need to get past the barrier and I'll lead you to my office so that we can look at the rune together.” Quirinus interrupts, “Best also to separate if you want to keep up appearances Harry. I mean you did hide your scar this time, but if someone really looks at your facial structure they would assume that you are the wizarding savior. Especially if you brought a young Lord Guant with you. There are enough accusations as it is.” 

“Right.” Harry drops Tom’s hand and they enter the school building. 

They let Quirinus play tour guide and then have a bit of a competition to see who can dismantle the curse first. Tom has the magical knowledge of his complex spell and Harry has the stamina. It is a mix of blue and green as they make moves to take apart the arrays. Quirrell watches in fascination as the two of them work in turn. Their magic really is a good blend of light and dark, their wands should have been a testament to that. They were brother wands that did much better working together than they would ever work apart. Harry is reminded the moment that the curse breaks and the rune that was placed in the office cracks why he loves magic so much. It feels draining but it is so satisfying to watch the way that the sparks fade out and the air to the room that they are in is lighter. 

He watches till all the sparks vanish and noticed the way that Tom is smiling, its a small one. One that is prideful and truly happy, his dark eyes drift to his and Harry matches the smile in turn. there is something else in the air that makes it lighter, there is the knowledge that even with limited magical ability, Tom can create and take apart complex enchantments. It's relieving and Harry can feel nothing but warmth bleeding between their bond. The kind of good feelings that he used to attribute to the rare memory of his parents, or a good one with his friends. It's strange to think that he can feel this happy with Tom. He shakes himself out of it because the possibly only dangerous thing that they will be doing is coming up soon. 

~/*\~

Harry has them wait till Quirrell has walked them beyond the wards to make the move to pass right through them again and heading to the girl's bathroom. There is no one yet at the school so there is hardly a fear of running into anyone. Well anyone besides Myrtle. 

Tom has no want to face her again. Not because of what he has done, he cares little about her death. The only remorse to be had over it was that it was an accident that had led to Hogwarts almost being shut down and the mistake of creating his first Horcrux. 

He takes off the invisibility cloak and hands it back to Harry. 

~Open~ He commands and the sinks start to move and when the gap has been created he calls for the stairs.

“Oh, there are stairs.” Harry nods his head swiftly.

“Of course there are stairs.” Tom blinks at him. “Did you not call for them the time that you needed to go into the chamber?”

“I had no idea, to be honest with you, I just sorta slid my way down with Ron.” 

“You slid down?” Tom doesn’t know whether to laugh or be greatly concerned about Harry’s thought processes. He rubs at his forehead “Let me get this straight you opened the chamber and just rode what would be a spiral staircase downward like a slide and just dropped off into the dark and unknown.”

“Pretty much, except I dropped down into a pile of rat and other animal bones. It was pretty gross and crunchy under me.” Harry shrugs.

Tom can not help but laugh. “How was my Diary defeated by you? How did you make it to 18? You must have the most insane luck I have ever heard of.”

Perhaps there really was something to be said about the extreme loss of magic that he must have suffered creating that many Horcruxes. If Harry was blatantly charging into confrontations in his first life without even thinking too hard about it he must have really become weak and pathetic. Though in hindsight, he supposes that he did something just as rash once and got himself blown up by his own killing curse. So perhaps the lesson was if anything the fates hated Tom and punished the rash things he did with full consequences while Harry's actions were rewarded with perhaps trauma but the allowance to live another day. 

“Hey, I was 12.” Harry folds his arms in a very childish manner that now fits him as the potion has worn off. “And fate seemed to like to balance everything out. It gave me hardships for every time that Death had to watch me flip the odds into my favor.” 

Tom snorts. “Fate liked you before Death is what I am hearing.”

“Sure and she has a funny sense of humor I am sure.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Completely dark and twisted. Can we get back to trying to get what we need now?”

“Before we head down, I will have to call him by his real name, and I will introduce you accordingly that way he won’t look at you without the protective clear eyelids that he uses for when he is in water and kill you where you stand with a look or try to eat you,” Tom explains carefully. “And try your best not to laugh at him. He could take offense and that is a whole mess that we don’t need.”

“Why would I be laughing at the literal king of snakes, he is massive and traumatizing.” Harry blinks at him, his brow furrowing. 

Tom sighs deeply “because he is named the most stupid and cliche thing that I have ever heard and wouldn’t let me change it.”

“Oh, and what is the great big snake of death’s name Scales? Fangs? Poison?” Harry chuckles. "and what would you have even changed it to?" 

“It is Worse than those names,” Tom admits already bracing himself for the reaction to the snake's actual name he will not embarrass himself further by bringing up what he thought would have been cool names at 16. “Sals.”

Harry does laugh at that, laughs for a whole minute. “You can’t be serious,'' he says after he has caught his breath. “Salazar Slytherin, the man that was so studious, serious, and respectable that everyone feared him, named his pet snake Sals after himself.”

“Unfortunately I am not kidding.” Tom sets his jaw. “And he is a bit slow, loyal, and furious when needed. But slow.” 

“Slow as in he is like a dog that barks at nothing.” Harry tilts his head thinking about it and just manages to hold back his laughter.

“Slow as in repeats directions to himself as he sets about a task.” Tom sighs. 

“That actually really explains a lot.” Harry snorts. “When I first heard him, he was talking about killing and repeated that over and over and over again.” 

Tom takes an even deeper breath. “Let's just get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fun chapter to write :D
> 
> Nice to be posting this between my work shifts a close and then an open for me. Oh Boy! So naturally, I chose to post this instead of sleep as in you can only be so tired right?
> 
> (ᅌᴗᅌ* )
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support for this fic and I hope to see you all soon.


	14. Snakes and Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Snape talk about Dumbledores declining sanity. Harry and Tom meet Sals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than normal, but a good one I am sure and one that sets things up for the next.

The walk down the stairs is a little less terrifying than the slide that Harry had taken into the dark the first time and the last time that he was there. The stairs have the decency to light up with enchantments as they wind down them and Tom leads so if there was any risk of Death it would be Tom that faced it first. 

~Sals~ Tom hisses as they reach the bottom of the steps. He calls through the dark and it echoes around the cavernous underbelly of the school. During the first year, the older Gryffindors used to joke about how the first years could take a wrong turn and become part of the darkened caves below and were never seen again. It had all been that sort of stupid joke that no one actually besides a select few gullible students believed. Poor Neville had been worried about the changing staircases their entire first week either sending him to his doom on the 3rd floor or taking him under the school. 

Harry now that he can see the place for what it truly was, is sure that there might have been some truth to becoming a victim to the caverns under the school. Not necessary by a staircase but upon wandering the grounds foolishly. He can see now in the dark with the few lights, the way that it stretches indefinitely, how pipes wind in and out of the darkness, and tunnels. The light creates long casting shadows and Tom steps through them, his own cast stretching and looking more like the image of Voldemort that he knows, taller and thinner. Harry holds his wand at the ready, even if he knows that this Sals will listen to Tom. Perhaps that is something that Tom shares with his Basilisk friend, they both have simple and very unfrightening names but had the capability to be monsters. 

It's not exactly scary this time around, but he is not foolish enough not to be wary. The place holds awful memories for him. Particularly the part of a 16-year-old Tom Riddle standing over a dying Ginny mocking him. He has stabbed that very soul shard that now beats in Tom’s chest. His hand tightens ever so slightly on his wand thinking about it. 

~Sals.~ Tom repeats and there is the sound of something large moving. ~I brought a guest so don’t try to harm him.~ 

A few more enchanted luminations light up the passage, and Harry can see the many bones, and they crunch under his feet as he moves through them, and the large skin that is decorating the passage. Tom looks at the mess with disgust and starts vanishing himself a path as not to have to trample through it. 

_~Master~_

There is a loud voice that feels like it is speaking directly into his ear and in his head. Snakes had always sounded like they were whispering things. But the power behind the voice is immense, it's almost enough to cause a headache. Large yellow eyes look at him from the dark and should there not be that clear eyelid Harry knows where he would be dead. The large snake charges over and brings its massive head down in a very quick swing so that its eye to eye with Tom. 

_~ Missed you Master~_ The snake breathes deeply and Tom’s hair ruffles with it. 

~ I missed you too~ Tom says and it doesn’t sound like he has at all. He does reach up and pet along the scales that puff up by the snake's throat. Sals moves so that Tom can reach other parts while coiling the uppermost part of its body around him, almost like attempting to block him into giving it a good scratch. 

_~ Yes Missed Me.~_ Sals closes his eyes with the affection and opens his mouth and the horrid breath released makes breathing not nearly as enjoyable and shows off all the teeth that it has. The yellow eyes meet Harry’s and the pupils dilate, growing with interest. Sals moves slowly closer to him. 

_~You smell like Master ~_ The massive body is near him now and the large tongue tastes the air around him. He can see the way that its throat moves and the larger spiky spines that make it up. ~You must be Master’s offspring~ The snake says happily almost reminding Harry of a little child that thinks they have an answer to life's many riddles. 

Tom coughs. ~No. Sals~ 

The uncomfortableness in Tom’s tone makes him chuckle. ~I am not his child.~

 _~Grandchild.~_ The snake bobs his head up and down at this. _~Master has multiple offspring then.~_

Harry can not help himself, he just starts laughing at the snake's antics, most snakes that he had interacted with were hardly this entertaining. ~I am not his grandchild either.~

 _Great, Great, Grandchild._ Sals continues and probably would have continued to make Tom seem older and older with each time dissuaded. But Tom cuts him off with a look. 

~He is not my offspring.~ Tom all but yells. ~Were not related.~ He adds for good measure. 

_~Mate then.~_ Sals concludes excitedly. _~I look forward to Hatchlings!~_

Tom rubbed at his face as Harry pet along the smooth neck and to the more bumpy head. Sals hissed softly in what could be happiness. 

_~So happy that Master is no longer lonely. You a good Mate.~_ Sals declares. _~Good at Scratches and a Speaker. ~_

“You know I think I know why your diary told me that parseltongue wouldn’t help me in our battle. He seems to be easily won over.” Harry smiled at the way that Sals has now relaxed to the ground next to him. 

Tom just sighs again, obviously wishing that the Slytherin monster that only he could control was a bit more of what one would assume a monster would act like. Hagrid would have loved Sals, as his idea about knowing how to calm a beast makes perfect sense in this context. Treat Sals nicely when talking to him, and give him pets and probably well fed and there were no issues.

~/*\~

Sals will only give them the venom if Tom plays with him as he has been bored and hardly stimulated. Harry had inquired what exactly that meant and Tom told him he wouldn’t like it. Harry at first took this to mean that Tom had brought other students down into the tunnels for Sals to hunt. But it turned out that it was just cats and other slightly larger animals which were not limited to dogs, deer, and birds that Tom would take down there. Harry thinks that the reason that Tom would have thought him worried was the fact that he loved his cats. Even if Loki liked Tom a lot better than she did Harry. Still, Harry couldn’t completely blame the large snake for wanting to hunt down things that were slightly bigger and challenging but he could blame Tom for promising a deer but only after they extracted the venom. Which they did extract a lot, and Sals was a pretty good sport about letting Harry and Tom use the equipment. 

It was rather remarkable that they were able to get such an amount as if any other person were to attempt such a thing they would have had to kill the snake. 

_~We play now~_ Sals hissed raising his body to an amazing height. 

It made Harry feel bad as they were leaving the thing there. 

“Were getting him a deer.” Harry said as they made their way up the stairs.

“No we're not, we’re just leaving.” Tom continued up the next flight. “It's impractical to catch one and bring it back.” 

“It's the least that we can do, he is lonely down there and understimulated.” Harry pointed out.

“And he can continue to be, it's not like the other animals that you feel like you need to adopt. He has a home and places to hunt if he follows the tunnels to water.” Tom refutes and then as if reading Harry’s mind briefly, “It's not like he can be stored in a tank, even if you were to shrink him, he is a danger to all things that sees his eyes, even himself.” 

“Fine.” Harry shrugged “you go home and I will catch the deer.”

“If that is your attempt to manipulate me, you will find that it is a poor method. “ Tom reaches out his hand for the invisibility cloak. 

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, I’m just telling you how it is if you don’t want to help. I’ll take you home and finish the job. A deal is a deal.”

Tom did end up helping with catching a deer and then bringing it back to a most delighted Sals. Harry promised to visit again, much to Tom’s annoyance. 

~/*\~

“I like him.” Harry said happily as they sat at the table for dinner, Sirius had something unavoidable come up and had told them not to burn the place down while he was out. The note was pretty quickly written, and Tom perhaps was overreacting but he felt like something was a little off about the note. Not that he doubted that Sirius had written it. He had seen his chicken scratch before but it was the haste that it seemed to have been created with, and the way that ink had been smudged. 

Tom sighs, “Sals?” 

“Yes Sals.” Harry nods. “I won’t deny that he is a good hunter, the deer never stood a chance. But he is almost like a dog, friendly, and the type that would follow a person everywhere. I wonder if Salizar Slyterhin considered him to be almost like another child and thus named him Sals, because of the way he would probably have trailed after him until he got too big.”

“That is actually how the death happened that I used for the Horcrux.” Tom spears a potato with his fork with no mood to actually eat it. Harry's guess was probably far too accurate for his liking. When he had first met Sals he had been in awe, to think that such a creature called him both Master and Family. He had slunk down to the chamber often after finding it. It was a place to be alone, away from his followers, and of course, there was the benefit of the hidden rooms that held artifacts that Sals had led him to. 

“He followed you up to the surface.” Harry pauses in chewing the small bite of beef. 

“I was trying to get the stupid thing to listen to me and go back down.” 

Because Sals was big and wanted to come out into the school. He had not been since he was young, still able to fit in pockets and or a trunk. He had wandered through the halls at night, soaked up the sun in windows where none would have been. It had not mattered so long ago. But there were more students and Sals was nearing 45 feet when Tom had been a student. There was no good way to hide such a creature and take it for a walk. Even with the snake's insistence that it would have been fine. 

“Sals is not a good listener.” Harry states the obvious. 

“Yes and a girl named Myrtle Warren was in the bathroom at the time. She boldly ran out of the stall and looked right at Sals. I might mention that my blood protects me from looking in the eyes of him, so there was no protective covering. She didn’t have time to do anything else, she just toppled over and collapsed on the ground right then and there dead.”

Sals had wanted to eat her and that would probably have been the better choice. The body would have disappeared and there wouldn’t have been any evidence of foul play; it would have just been a missing person case and if they did locate the ghost for all they would have known the girl could have died to anything in the castle. It was Tom’s understanding that the ghost while haunting the bathroom had not said anything about her death till much, much after his time. That could have been the end of it. 

“I have met Myrtle on several occasions. She never left the bathroom, for long. She was also very confrontational when she wasn’t sulking.” Harry admits though he sounds like he pitys the ghost of a girl that was taken pretty early in life. “So you used her death to your advantage.” 

“I was more just into threatening people at the time. I had no want for a death, attacks were good enough to cause rifts in the right circles, and divide teachers and families. Many that were in my house and more aware were willing to join me.” Tom plays with the potato. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in there, no one used that bathroom. It always was out of service. But yes I used her death. I had caused it even if it was accidental. I was talking to Sals about possibly petrifying some students, there was intent to eventually kill one or two before I left Hogwarts for a Horcrux.” 

After a moment's pause he tacks on “I was young and very stupid.” Just because he is not happy with the face that Harry makes. 

“You have to be to practice something that you just learned about at when the opportunity presented itself.” Harry says a bit bitterly. 

So perhaps he was not as upset about the death but rather the creation of the first Horcrux. It made sense. Harry was the one that had to hunt all of them down...

“I already admitted that I was stupid for it.” Tom glares. “I regret creating it. I had remorse for the act of it and for giving up the part of myself that was used to create it.” 

Harry's face lightens slightly, with eyes that understand. “I know.” He says it almost calmly. 

And Tom relaxes his hold on his fork, the tension leaving his shoulders. Because Harry understands, he understands better than anyone else would. 

~/*\~

Severus can not say that he is pleased with the actions that he had to take. He usually is not one to make bold moves like this. He is a spy, after all, the type of person that thinks several steps ahead and makes sure that he isn’t putting himself on the line for something that would blow his cover or had little payoff. But some things can not be avoided. 

The Headmaster’s mind had been slipping since the incident at the Ministry and the Trial for Black. He had become obsessed with proving that Tom Riddle, Voldemort, was Marvolo Gaunt. Severus has taken the stance that Marvolo is not the man that Dumbledore thinks that he is. He is certainly not Voldemort, but even if he was similar and was planning on making some sorts of political policies that are not favorable towards the light, there was a system in place that could be turned over, and laws could be changed and repealed. It could take time but most people would fight the ministry on policies if they were corrupt enough and impacted them enough. 

Moreover the signs from the last Wizarding War and the Dark Lord were not there. Yes, his mark was stronger, it had gotten that way seemingly overnight, the black coming in to focus and the snake twisting around the skull. It had been a sign of the Dark growing in strength but there were no disappearances, there were no sightings, no instructions from any of the Death Eaters that he was close to. None knew any more than he did. So Severus was left to conclude based on the evidence that they had at least that Voldemort had made the mark responsive to those of his blood. The next person that would be able to carry the torch so to speak would be able to activate it. Voldemort had never seemed the type to engage in such actions that would produce a son but then Severus knew that there was little that the Dark Lord would not have done for power and to secure his legacy. So having had a sexual relationship to gain that heir to carry on the Slytherin line wasn’t exactly out of character. 

Dumbledore had shown him some of the pictures of Tom Riddle, the boy that had grown into the Dark Lord that he had served and there is a strong resemblance, there though seems to be more life in the eyes of Marvolo. Witch Weekly had claimed that they would be given an exclusive with the Wizarding World's newest “hottest” power couple. Rita’s gossip rag was having a field day even with the possible legal actions that Marvolo had announced that he would be pursuing. 

Still with all the news, and the polarity of people that wanted to see what Marvolo would do in the political world and other pursuits before they committed to his side were happening. Severus had decided to take a stand to at least protect the boy who lived and the partner that he seemed so desperate to protect. The person that he looked at with nothing but love, and seemed to get something of a fond look in return. 

Politics aside, if Marvolo was just a boy, not even yet to turn 17 then he did not deserve whatever twisted scheme that Dumbledore was trying to cook up. Severus had been asked to brew Veritaserum, truth serum of all things and with a heavy heart and near unsteady hand he had begun the task. Yes, the potion would not harm Marvolo to drink it, but that did not mean that it would not harm him if he were to start spilling things. And if he said the wrong thing, there was no way that in his fragile state of paranoia and panic that Albus wouldn’t end up doing something to him that he could come to regret. 

It was all the more reason that he arranged a meeting with the person that now would have been sober and could at least perhaps shed some light on the situation as the caregiver to the 2 teens. Sirius Black is not someone that Severus wants to have contact with. He remembers him as the vocal and quick to pull some nasty prank on him type of person. A follower of James into trouble and one to antagonize Severus at every turn. He was a bully, and for all the things that Sirius, James, Peter, and sometimes even Lupin put him through, Severus would give as much as he got. But it had always been 4 against 1 hardly fair. 

He wouldn’t be doing this if he thought that he could make contact with Potter himself, but the boy was not exactly one to have a talk with someone that he didn’t know, on the basis of only a promise of trying to keep him safe. So it becomes a game of using Sirius as the middleman to pass off the warnings. Especially the way that Albus was looking into the idea that the Dark Lord had created Horcruxes to protect his soul, and that there might be a way for him to come back. Obviously that would place both the children in danger. Voldemort might not like the fact that his son was running around with Harry, and might have held softer world views than the world that he wanted to create. Or there was the possibility that Dumbledore was just plain crazy and looking for objects that hid soul shards that did not exist. The Dark Lord was many things but stupid was not one of them. How could he have made at least one when one was enough to cause issues? But if there were no Horcruxes to find? If there was no evidence of his delusions how would the Headmaster’s plan of attack change? There was no good way to know and so he had to play it on the safe side.

They are to meet if Sirius was to show, that was isolated from most of the Wizarding community but a place that was Muggle and they both would have had familiarity with as it was a place that was near where Lily and Severus had grown up and place that Lily held her small baby shower at. Severus does his best to sit calmly in the far back booth. It's closest to the emergency exit if he does need to make a getaway. 

~/*\~

Sirius had received the letter that was addressed to him with some hesitance. He knew few that used the owlery postal service, the only person that he could think that did so was Remus as he could not afford to own one, and he changed residency very often. The note has neat penmanship, so fine are the letters that he must squint at them to read who it is from and when he knows he doesn’t necessarily wish to open it and read it. 

Remus and Severus were the ones that had talked at the Malfoy charity event. That night is a bit of a blur if he is going, to be honest with himself he had drunk far too much. He had wanted to forget and let go of a lot of things that had happened in the past. And since then he had been trying to come to terms with some of the things that were currently going on in the outside world. There had been a shift in music that he had missed, there had been political unbalance, and Harry had grown into a person that he wants to know but only has seen flashes of childishness under the maturity that he has had to develop early in life. 

He doesn’t know much about Severus and how he could have changed, he read over the letter and it is worded with pretty things, but he can feel the undertone of regret laced into the paragraphs. No Severus is not apologizing up front. But he can tell there are things that are haunting him, Lily’s death among others. 

It has to be that brokenness that he detects in the letter that makes him consider going and considers hearing the other person out. For It is something that he understands well. Having nothing but regrets for going after Peter that night. Yes, Harry has forgiven him, but every time he sees the way that Harry is nervous in a public setting or when someone large gets into his path that is unknown and wearing black unmarked robes, he sees the way that his hand reaches for his wand. He has seen Harry get woken up by nightmares, with drying tears that streak his face. 

And Sirius doesn’t ask, because he thinks those times with the way that he is talking softly to Voldie or one of the other cats are for Harry only. Though he tries to make it known that he is there for him in other ways, if only he were to open up. And as much of a horrible ache that has formed in his chest for the missed years, he knows that without them. Harry would not have met Tom and they would not be able to help and build each other up. Without Harry's suffering, there was no telling what would have happened to Marvolo. Harry by Sirius’s understanding is the one that had saved Tom, just as much as Tom had helped him. 

If Sirius can cut off whatever it is that Dumbledore is planning before it reaches them, it would be ideal. At the very least he could possibly disillude Severus of thinking that Voldemort was Marvolo. Marvolo was just a troubled teen. 

He arrives at the location that is slightly familiar to him having been to the restaurant a few times, though he had stuck to the bar section. He greets a very somber looking Severus though if he is going, to be honest, he knows that Severus had always looked a bit gloomy. There had always been bags under those dark eyes, that had been hidden by his long black hair. Sirius just had never cared to notice. Lily had told him things about the other, things about what had drawn them close together, and in that person that he had tormented really was someone that was Stoic. 

“Snape.” He greets still with caution, Harry would have taken note in the way that his hand is close to where his wand is. If Severus knows he does not act in turn. He is calm.

“Black.” He says with that monotone voice that is devoid of all emotion those dark eyes look into his from across the table. “Have a seat.” 

He does of course. “Do you mind telling me what you sent a letter to my home for?” 

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t read it, for more than an address.” 

Sirius decides to let that barb go. “No I read it, there just was not that much detail in the paragraph that you wrote. I am sure that is because this sort of thing could be intercepted by someone such as your employer.”

“Yes, Albus has been looking into the mail that leaves the castle, but not such that are sent from other places.” Snape says simply. 

“Yes and that sounds like a completely sane person that I would want to work for.” Sirius frowns deeply thinking about it.

“I was under the impression that you had at one point.” Snape points out.

And yes the order of the phoenix had been run by Dumbledore but those had been different times and when Sirius could trust the other's judgment. It is not so anymore, it is far from it. 

“And I am glad to no longer be associated with him as I am sure that you wouldn’t want to be associated with the person you worked with at one time.” Sirius sighs after watching the way that Severus stills a little at that. He is getting better at reading people as he has to read Marvolo on a daily basis. “I don't want to have this conversation derail itself into insults already. We're adults now, and far better I like to think than the days of school.”

Severus raises one eyebrow as if to ask were they? Perhaps he was looking for an apology but Sirius wouldn’t just come out and say it. Not because he doesn't know that he had been horrible to the other but because it would seem disingenuous to just throw it out there after years of them fighting each other tooth and nail. 

“You asked me here with concerns about Marvolo and Harry. I won’t tell you their personal life, as it isn’t my place for one and second not something that I would just tell someone that I am not even close to. But if you really have a safety concern other than the mad idea that Marvolo is Vold-Voldemort. I am willing to hear you out because there isn’t much I would not do for those two boys.” 

“Then I shall cut to the root of the matter.” Snape nods swiftly. “I am sure you are aware of a potion called Veritaserum.” 

“Yes.” Sirius eyes the water that has been placed near him with a quick side glance that does not go unnoticed by Severus. 

“Dumbledore has asked me to create some.” Snape lowers his voice. “To what good and end he thinks this will get him I don’t claim to know but I can tell you that he does intend to use it. I am sure that both the people in your care do have things that they do not wish others to know or to share. There is also the issue that the Dark Lord may have made something unspeakable in order to return, while I don’t exactly believe it. Albus is convinced.” 

“And this unspeakable thing that was made?” Sirius has a very awful feeling suddenly. 

“Have you ever heard of a Horcrux, Black?” 

The conversation turns very dark from there and is not one that leaves Sirius feeling better about leaving Harry and Tom alone. If anything it has made his resolve to stay longer and keep tabs on them stronger. They have always been in possible danger, but this paints a very grim picture as people could be coming at them from both sides of the light and respective dark spectrum. Albus might have been losing it, but he had people under vows and contracts. Severus included. Which makes some sort of twisted sense when he really thinks about it. 

Things were going to get dangerous regardless if there was a second rise of the Dark Lord or not. The Death Eaters would not sit quietly forever when they fetl the tensions rising, and Albus would gather those that he thought he could trust to deal with the issue that Marvolo could pose and the rising Dark. And caught in between all of it would be Marvolo, Harry, Sirius, and now Severus as he was placing himself in harm's way to tell him these things. Playing what again could be counted as a spy for two sides. He will say that it does show the good side of someone that he didn’t have a shred of real respect for before the conversation. 

“I will give them your warnings.” Sirius nods as he prepares to leave. “And I suppose that we should keep in touch.” He pulls out a muggle pen. Harry has a bunch of them hanging around the home and a piece of parchment. Honestly, these things were much simpler than the traditional ways. “This should make coding letters easier, as the only people alive that still know it are myself and Remus.” 

He copies down a key with all the care that he can offer. He is out of practice for basic things, prison had not been kind to him. It also made him space out a bit more than he would have liked. He gives Severus a gallon for the drinks that they had to order to keep their booth and stands up. 

“Try and take care of yourself.” He doesn’t know why he says it or makes a move to hold the other’s shoulder. Perhaps because he realizes despite the things that he doesn’t like about the other that he is trying to make amends, and placing himself into unnecessary danger by trying to warn them. It's hard to hate someone that seems to carry the weight of the wizarding world on their shoulders and harbors grief and regret like an old friend. 

“Same to you Black.” Severus answers surprisingly civilly. 

~/*\~

“This is not a potion that I am familiar with.” Tom thumbs his way through the notes. “But I know enough about the ingredients to know that you are making a very magically strong acid.”

“That's the idea.” Harry sets up the cauldron. “I don’t want a single trace of the Stone.” 

“Stone?” Tom watches the way that Harry moves around the room and then from the place that he takes a small package that is wrapped in brown paper. As he opens the package it reveals a beautiful stone, red like blood crystallized, and it shines in the poor lighting of the potions room. His eyes widen in realization of the artifact that Harry now holds in his hands. 

“Yes, I promised that I would destroy the legendary Philosopher's Stone after I used its ability to transfer life energies to bring you back.” Harry’s eyes shut briefly as he puts the stone down on the workbench and locks the door so the cat can not get in. 

“Why would Death wish for such an important magical artifact to be destroyed.” Tom had considered the possibility of using said stone to extend his life time as he could tell that using Horcruxes was not exactly an option anymore. 

Harry meets his gaze, his face set to a hard one that suggests there is no-nonsense to be had about what he is going to tell him. “When the stone was created it was in the time of the black death. There were a lot of people that were dying and there was no hope, whole villages were infected and others sacked and then sacked again, burned, and people butchered. The world was a darkened place and Europe was plagued by famine, bloodshed, and the horrible disease. The man that we know as the creator of this stone, took the death of thousands of souls, stored them, and harvested their energy to give life force to another being. The stone because I am connected to Death feels disgusting and screams in agony so much so that I have to keep it under the protective enchantments so I don’t have to hear it. I am going to let the souls that have suffered for the past 600 years free.” 

It makes sense that Death would want those souls back, ones that he was denied as Death had once told him that he received everyone eventually Master and average person alike. 

Tom stands closer to Harry, reaching out his hand as the other holds it and feels it through their bond, small screams that were muffled and trapped. The thing is evil now that he is close enough to truly feel it the way that Harry does. He feels Harry’s need to destroy it, and that cold feeling again that twists itself in his gut, that makes his heart heaver and hard to beat. It's a sinking feeling, near stomach-turning. Perhaps he is scared of the person that was no doubt soon to die or had died when Harry had taken the stone from him. He was not as scared as he would have been in a perilous situation, but the knowledge that there had been someone out there that had been collecting such a thing as a soul. That was something that would have fascinated him some time ago. But now it was just something that was so very disgusting, troubling, and horrible to think about. The shards that are in his necklace twist away from the thing, knowing what it is, and what it does. 

“I already agreed to help you destroy it, but I now understand the reason that it can no longer exist.”

Tom lets go and starts taking note of the ingredients that they will need. 

~/*\~

When the stone is dropped into the cauldron carefully by holding it at a distance away with his wand and then releases it. Harry can feel the crushing presence of energy, the way the shadows twist, as the thing that was once a prison is destroyed. The room lights with the changing color of the potion from red and purple, to black and almost sparkling. Smoke rises and dissipates with the charms in place to help with fumes. The screaming has stopped, as all that was trapped starts to be released. 

It's quiet apart from the sound of his own heart beating and the soft breathing of Tom that is close to him, watching the smoke with interests, and ready to perhaps cast a spell should the safety measures fail. And Death comes to collect what saturates the room with what feels like electrical currents. He is silent at first, but his deep and calming voice breaks the silence and near like trance that has formed. 

**It is time for you all to rest.** Death holds up his lantern and there are faint white lights that drift towards it. **Thank you for this Master.** Death bows deeply. **and you too of course Riddle for helping. These souls can now go home, never to be siphoned, and constricted into a potion to make someone live a longer life. As payments tend to go, I shall make my appearances as your tutor as needed to convince your Godfather, though perhaps one day the truth would suit you better than my attempts to play human.**

And with yet another bow he is gone, and the blue and white of his lantern glow takes the remaining feeling of energy with it as it fades out in great elegance. And Harry wonders if that is truly what a soul is supposed to look like, bright lights of purity and potential, energy, and life. Tom had not felt that way when he had retrieved it from the objects that he held. He leans into Tom resting his head on his shoulder feeling the length of the day come crashing down on him, he is so very tired.

“Thank you for your help.” He is tired and it feels good to have someone that is able to hold him up when he feels like all that he wants is to fall down with exhaustion. 

“Any time Harry.” Tom’s soft voice rumbles through him, and he feels warm and pleasant, lighter even despite how tired that he is. 

They really could be great together. Harry reflects as he gives Tom’s arm a little squeeze before letting go and heading towards his room for a well-deserved sleep. What he had not expected to find was Voldie sharing his cat bed with Loki. She was even letting him lick her ears. 

“When did this happen?” Harry asked in slight shock. Voldie let out a loud clicking sound as he stopped and stared Harry down. “Oh was I intruding on something?” Harry all but laughed finding his camera to get at least one good shot of the two before Loki trotted her way out of the room and towards Tom’s. Voldie made a loud hiss at Harry as he stalked under the bed and probably wouldn’t come out till morning. 

~/*\~

Sirius was the first one up in the morning. He had not been able to sleep, sometimes when the nightmares really hit him, it was best changing into a dog and laying down under the bed. It was quiet there and the cats didn’t go anywhere near him that way. He had slept decently after crawling under there for a little while things were simpler in an Animagus state. But now that he was up he was debating how exactly to talk to Harry and Marvolo about what Severus had said, or even how much he felt comfortable with sharing with them. He could picture the order of the phoenix days and how the older members that had kids were very selective on what they knew. 

However it was not like Harry and Tom were exactly the most innocent of kids. Tom is also almost of age. They had been through a lot and knowing what they had already faced most of what made life unpleasant, being kidnapped and held. It made a lot of sense to at least tell them most if not all of it. They needed to know what could happen as a way to prepare for it. Harry had said that Tom’s magic was working better than before. So perhaps it was time to see what he was capable of and teach him defensive spells if need be. While it would be important this wasn’t a conversation that he looked forward though to having. 

~/*\~

Harry woke up early, the sun was streaming through the curtains. It's the first morning that he has not found a wrinkly cat by his head. He rolls over and feels for his glasses, slowly sitting up and finding Voldie batting at his legs. He picks the cat up and heads towards the bathroom as he is going to take a shower and then well, Voldie would need a good clean. 

He sighs turning on the hot water and steps into the stream when it feels warm but not burning. Voldie takes a good place on the closed toilet seat and watches, only moving to play with the curtain as he thinks that he is no longer being watched. Harry is going to have to trim his nails as the curtain starts to rip. 

~/*\~

Tom moves in favor of the kitchen as the bathroom is taken by Harry, and some hot tea to start the day sounds pretty good. He isn’t expecting to run into Sirius. The man was usually up later than this. He looks tired, almost as tired as when they had first met after the trial. 

“Sirius” He greets with a smile, it feels a little forced because Tom is tired, and hadn’t been expecting to see the other. 

“Mavolo.” Sirius greets with a nod of his head and a small smile. “How are you this morning?” 

“As well as someone that stayed up late researching with Harry can be.” Tom acknowledges getting the kettle out.

“Yes, how did going and harvesting your own ingredients go?” Sirius takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Pretty well, took a bit longer than expected.” Tom was getting bored of the conversation already, at least with Harry there was someone to distract the ‘older’ man. 

Sirius nods again. “And how are you two doing in other areas, school is starting up again. Have you heard from Morte?”

“Yes, yesterday in fact.” Tom heats the kettle. “My NEWTs should go well. I have no worries about this coming year.”

“They make you take your test through the ministry correct?” Sirius is watching him closely.

“Yes…” Tom says after pausing only briefly to give it a thought.

“Any ideas on what you wish to pursue career-wise?” Sirius turns the mug a little with his finger. 

“Something with potions or charms,” Tom says readily, “and perhaps a bit of politics. I do wish to use my seat correctly, but don’t know if I want to pursue a whole career of it.” 

Yes he had to establish himself, network and the planned on showing it with his fortitude for pushing the limits with some of his ideas for potions that had never come to fortition. He didn’t want to be in the public eye for dueling or the Dark Arts. Such hobbies needed to be hidden and only shown when needed. He had to build up a base, and some of his old followers would not be remotely acceptable in the current political landscape. He considers curse-breaking with Harry as a backup plan. 

Sirius eyes him a little strangely. “I haven’t particularly seen your spell work before.” 

No he wouldn’t have, because up till about a week ago there had been no hope for such a thing. His magic had been too unpredictable and there hadn’t been a core for it. 

“Harry told you I was having issues, yes?” Tom addresses the concern. “It has been acting funny, for a while, but I have it under control again.”

To prove his point he moves the cup he will use from the cupboard to his place at the table and sends the sugar and a spoon after it. The display seems to please Sirius. 

“It's good to see that considering the news that I have to tell you but we will have to wait until Harry joins us.” 

And when Harry comes down, Sirius does spill a lot of things. Including that Dumbledore had figured out the possibility of him having a Horcrux or more than one and his plan for the possibility of using Veritaserum. Such a thing is worrisome because before there had been just a fear of being found out, but now there is a direct threat to the fragments of himself, and damnation to purgatory if the shards are to be destroyed. There is also the sudden compulsive urge for him to check no matter what the situation is, what he is drinking, and eating. He will not be poisoned and he will not be drinking anything that could make him loose-lipped about his situation. 

Sirius takes their silence to mean that he has to promise to watch over them, even if that is the opposite of what Tom feels they need. He won’t be leaving until he has made sure that they have the defense skills they need, and the proper teacher to continue them after he took a small vacation and gave them space. It looked like it might be time for him to reveal some of his skills in defense and offense again, and subject Black to the interesting entity known as Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the point of confrontations. (I do so enjoy them) The next chapter might be what we call a calm before a storm. I am so happy to have been able to write this story so quickly and have the ideas come so naturally. 
> 
> **The next Chapter is Interviews and Kittens.** And will be out asap.
> 
> Hope to see you all soon. Take care and stay safe!


	15. Interviews and Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom comes to terms that he may be really invested in this new life he is building. He can't decide if this is the worst thing to happen to him or one of the best. Luckily Sirius and Death are pretty on board with him changing for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written within a 40 hour work week so far. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Feels great ~

It didn’t matter who or what a person was like, nothing ruined a mood faster than waking up a tad later than one wanted to on the day of an interview and stepping in cat vomit. Warm, disgusting, chunky cat vomit. It had been the fourth time that he had seen it grace his carpeted floors and the second time that he had managed to step in it. Loki is looking at him with a face that is anything but apologetic. As angry and grossed out as he is, it is a simple fix and he can not help but worry slightly about the cat's health. It could not be normal for her to be acting like this. He had also noticed her insistence of taking things that were soft and stuffing them under his bed. 

He cleaned up the mess with a flick of his wand and is determined to at least set up a veterinary appointment for her, to make sure that she gets the care that she needs. Of the few things in this new life that he has and likes Loki is one of them, having been there to be comforting even before Harry and he had actually started to have a functioning relationship. It really must be the fall from grace if he can admit that to himself. 

He takes it slowly getting ready, making sure that he looks his best before heading downstairs. Harry looks decent for Harry at least. There is not a spell that is conceivable that could have tamed his hair. It just sticks itself up in multiple directions regardless of the effort that Harry puts into it. Somehow it suits him. Harry is not necessarily the most controlled of people. He was more driven with his heart, where Tom was driven by his mind having usually an easier time gripping his emotions. With the exception when he truly got angry about something, then when he saw red, he was making nice paintings with it. 

His fingers twitched. It had been so long since he had been able to use anything that was remotely harmful. Sirius wanted to practice spells at the other residence and Tom has a real want to let loose. He really wants to see if he is still able to handle himself. Knowing that Dumbledore would be knocking at their door any day now, bringing with him a chance to truly mess with the life that he was building, the effort that he is putting in.

Thinking about it for long is enough to put him on edge. He does want to kill the other, if not only for himself but for Harry as well. The man had sentenced him to live with muggles...

“Tom.” Harry leans a little forward into his space interrupting his thoughts, “Are you alright?” 

Tom nods swiftly. “I’m fine, however, I need to know if you take the cats anywhere for veterinary treatment.” 

Harry blinks caught clearly off guard by what he has decided to mask his displeasure about recent events with. “I don’t have a particular place, why?” 

“Loki has been throwing up a bit too much in the mornings than what can be considered healthy.” 

Harry frowns but seems to buy the distraction, “I’ll see about getting her an appointment, don’t worry too much about it alright I am sure that she will be okay.” 

Tom sighs. “I just wish that she would stop vomiting places that I can step in.” 

Harry cringes at the idea of that, locking his arm through his, in preparation for apparition. But also Tom is sure as a comforting motion. “I’ll make the appointment after our interview.” 

“Been practicing your lines?” Tom relaxes and lets a small smile grace his features. It's easier to put himself back together when Harry shows how much he cares. Perhaps it is manipulative for him to sway Harry’s concerns for him away from what Tom actually is concerned about, but it is not like he wants to admit to Harry that he is a little fearful of Dumbledore. 

Tom doesn’t want to admit it, he has never wanted to. Dumbledore had always been a presence that darkened his doorway. Someone that had taken a hate to a young Tom Riddle, and used the little fear that had cultivated in someone that had their wardrobe set on fire, and the threat that if he used magic that he used to protect himself it would be a ticket to never be able to return to the magical world again. A way never to have freedom from that hell hole. Dumbledore had been his Magical Guardian, as the school assigned students that did not have magical representation someone that could help them navigate the wizarding world. Muggleborns were a common example, and Dumbledore could have helped him, could have done something about the abuse that he must have seen on the orphanage site, even if Tom never told him much about it. But he had sent him back every year, every holiday back to somewhere he was hated, starved, and beaten. It had all been held over his head, a way to keep him in line, the fact that Dumbledore could have him sent home winter break too. And now that he had a more stable soul, at least half of it, and has been exposed to Harry and Harry’s emotions he can realize that it was not just something that made him bitter and angry, but a truly sickening thing to do to a child. Of course, he had always know that child abuse was wrong, but it was another to really look at it through the lens of someone that endured it as well. Someone he cared for. 

Oblivious as he got older, as he had committed crimes that he knows are horrible, sickening, and darker than anything that was ever done to him to others. It might be how that wheel he read about works, the cycle does not end. But it probably didn’t matter in the end, Dumbledore had been the person that held a resistance against him. Saw through his attempts to seem normal, and certainly did nothing to turn him around. The one that truly would have been able to stop him. And it seemed that because of his evil doings, that it would follow Tom into the next life, the one that perhaps he wanted to be better in. If only slightly. 

He almost can form a response to his childhood, when he can see the effects that Harry’s has had on him. Something that Tom himself had damned the other to. Still, his childhood has left scars. He is still bitter, angry, and ashamed of it. He knows that he has to acknowledge the emotions that he has cut off and the creation of the other Horcruxes in order to bond with them as well as be remorseful. But when he looks at how loved Harry is by Sirius it just makes him more aggravated that his own, or possibly even people that knew them didn’t care enough. It makes him hate them more, it makes him feel justified in killing them because they deserved it. They were monsters. 

The only good thing that he has is Harry, and Dumbledore sought to take that away from him, just like everything else. Denying him a possible Wizarding family, the ability to feel safe, and the job he so desperately craved. 

“... So in short yes.” Harry nods, “as I am sure you have as well.”

He hadn’t been paying attention, he probably should have. He needed to focus himself, they were going to be giving a perfect interview. Anything less would be a waste. He shakes his head a little acting as if he had heard all that, Smiling larger, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes completely. “Of course.” 

“She will be fine, Tom.” Harry leans his head into his arm. “If you are so worried then we can reschedule the interview.”

“No, it's fine.” Tom assures. “We need to set the record straight and avoiding this interview would do more harm than good.”

“If you are sure…” Harry’s eyes search him, and Tom does his best to seem like he is up for this because he is and Harry seems to believe him. “Alright.” 

The moving of air, rushes around them and then their feet touch the ground gently. The small cafe in Diagon alley’s downtown is not a far walk from where they are. They are easily able to secure a booth at the corner of the shop and save a seat for their interviewer. Harry casts a few spells just to make sure that there are not any unwanted beetles lurking around them. A small round woman steps into the shop, she looks much like a bird in the way that her neck is long, and her nose is slightly pointed. The only thing thin about her seems to be her stringy legs. She has on a hat that has a few feathers in it. Tom doesn’t know if this is her attempt to look taller or to complete the bird-like look. Regardless. Mrs. Christine Waxling is a very interesting figure to behold, one that is trapped between unlikable to look at and one that seems bold enough not to care what they look like and accent their appearance to reflect that. It's almost respectable, her confidence. 

She smiles a little when seeing them. “It is good to make both of your acquaintances. I hope not to have kept you waiting.”

“Not at all.” Tom greets pleasantly. “We have only just arrived and were about to order drinks, we would be more than happy to add yours to our tab.”

Waxling’s face heats, giving her the look almost like a tomato with the way her head is so very round. Harry shakes his head already annoyed with Tom’s need to be polite no doubt. It is hardly his fault that being charming is the very best way to get what he wants, and what he wants is a flattering article about them that paints the image that he wants them to inspire. 

She takes a seat across from them. “I would appreciate that greatly.” She bobs her head. 

Harry smiles at her and lets her order first before placing his order and then Tom follows suit. 

“Now I was going to ask you both if it is alright if I use a quick quotes quill. Unlike Rita, I prize myself for having mine take down a full recording of what is being said as it is said. As I make my own notes on my own parchment.”

“I have never been interviewed before,” Tom doesn’t exactly lie. The only interviewing he had done was for a few of the small jobs that he had worked before committing himself full time to being a Dark Lord. “Whatever you think is best, and if it is alright with Harry of course.”

“I don’t see a reason to be upset with it.” Harry agrees. 

“Right, excellent. This interview is for the sake of setting a few records straight as you put it in your letter, but If anything I ask you is too personal or you don’t feel like answering, then don’t. Alright. You're under no obligation to answer.”

Tom nods swiftly, “that’s a little relieving.” 

Harry smiles nicely. “Very reassuring actually.” 

Tom can tell that he is actually relieved with it, seeing the things that people write about him, including books no less. Tom has a feeling that as long as it was somewhat accurate in its fast recording that he would appreciate it. It also gets them a get out of jail card if they don’t want to talk too in-depth about it. Which is a win to Tom, less finagling. 

“I will start with some easy things, just so that we get to know you both before we even touch on some of the more possibly dark elements. You are both currently homeschooled with a tour correct?”

They both nod. 

“What subjects do you like?”

“Potions and charms.” Tom answers much like he had in the kitchen for Sirius. “I like to create things that can be useful and to experiment.” He does his best to make his eyes match his supposed enthusiasm for the subjects. His favorites would always be Dark Arts and combative spells, but he feels like that would paint a poor image. 

“I like potions as well, it is a bit like cooking.” Harry smiles almost fondly, perhaps hinting on a joke that Tom is not yet aware of. “I also am a fan of Ancient Runes and History. Morte is something of an expert on the subject.”

Yes he was definitely telling jokes now. 

“What are some things that you like to do in your spare time?” Waxling gratefully takes the coffee that she has ordered from the waitress and takes a testing sip and then places it in front of herself. It looks like milk to Tom, though he hasn’t ever really liked the taste of it anyway. Give him a black or Jasmine tea depending on the mood that he was in and that was for the best. 

Harry just laughs as he takes his and has a sip. “Sorry I mean I’m not that interesting. I read a lot, play with our cats, and fly my racing broom around if it suits me. I suppose the most interesting thing is that I like to do is listen to Muggle Music. I like it more than our worlds. I also like to annoy Marvolo here so he doesn’t get too boring.” 

Harry nudges him with his foot and Tom is very glad that he has yet to take his tea. “Reading is far from boring, and Loki is a wonderful cat. Unlike that hairless abomination of yours.” 

He really will never like that hairless monstrosity. He destroyed everything that he touched with his grubby, sort of disturbingly wrinkly hands. That and well he was greasy when it was around bath time, and there were eye boogers that were left on places like the walls and corners of rooms. 

“Voldie is sweet.” Harry defends because he loves that thing more than he loves his Godfather Sirius, Tom is convinced. 

“He is only nice to anything that is named Harry you mean, vicious as his name translates to, to everyone else. I caught him biting Loki’s precious ears.” Tom frowns, taking his tea carefully and bringing it up to his lips. He takes a little sip before he returns his drink to the small plate and answers Waxling's original question. “I like to read, research ideas I have for developing a few new potions, and study for my upcoming NEWTs. I suppose I also humor Harry and allow him to drag me places, like quidditch matches.”

“Tom isn’t a fan of Quidditch.” Harry shakes his head. “I know that he is crazy for it.”

“No I have to be crazy for letting you drag me to the matches, your team the Chudley Cannons have to be the worst team that I have ever had the displeasure of watching. At least the Montrose Magpies, have interesting strategies and fly well.” 

“The truth comes out.” Harry shakes his head disappointed perhaps.

“Not really it's Sirius’s favorite team and he complained to me for over an hour about how I have ruined quidditch for him by pointing out the snitch is pointless.” 

Waxling blinks at this. “I’m sorry but the snitch is pointless.”

“Don’t get him started.” Harry quickly moves to intervene. “He has talked my ear off about how the snitch gives unfair point values and should not be how a game is ended.”

“That's the short version.” Tom finds himself smiling a real smile. “I could elaborate on how a clock would function a lot better.” 

“All the more reason to ask us something else.” Harry hurries on. 

“ Well alright then.” Waxling chuckles. “How many cats do you have just the 2?” 

“We have 4 technically but I don’t think Harry’s little Voldie counts.” Tom laughs as Harry bats him for that one, acting much like his age looks. He is anything but sorry. 

“Their names are Garfield, Moon Moon, Loki, and Voldie.” Harry shakes his head, taking another sip of his coffee. “And of course Voldie counts he counts as the best of them.” 

“Debatable” Tom mutters into his tea, purposely loud enough so that Harry can hear it. 

“Would you say that you like animals?” Waxling seems to be in love with the idea. Which again looks good for them, and their little PR stunt. 

“Harry does.” Tom answers it for Harry. “He just about wants to adopt anything that he thinks needs help. It is almost cute, as well as a little irritating. It could be poisonous or lethal and Harry would find a way to want to hug it and it would probably let him.”

“I can’t help that I have a way with animals.” Harry shrugged. “Sometimes they just seem to speak to me.”

Tom nearly chokes on his Tea at the hint to Sals and other snakes. Of course, Waxling doesn’t notice. She just prattled on about Magical creatures. Before ending it as if remembering she was in an interview. “Did you ever think of a carrier with mystical creatures? It might be a good way to care for even the most dangerous.”

“I think I do that pretty well currently, I don’t have a reason yet to make it a full-time occupation.” Harry gives a very bright smile and doesn’t elaborate but Tom feels his heartbeats rise a little. At the way that he says that and reaches over his way under the table. 

He can’t be so truly bothered by Harry’s simple acts of kindness... Others had been that way to him, some with alternative motives, and even if Harry really doesn’t. He has to be mad to care as much as he does for someone like Tom. And Tom has to be madder if it matters so much to him. What makes him this weak for Harry? It should not matter, he shouldn’t matter. But it had moved past this point long ago. Tom knows that he wants to own Harry, he wants that light to be his and his alone. He wants to trap those smiles, and murder the onlookers that seem just as encaptured by his smile. Harry is his. They wouldn’t like him if they knew the real him. They wouldn’t like Tom either, he would have had fun gutting them for looking at his Harry that way. He was 14 at least in looks, for god's sake. 

Harry squeezes his hand near painfully to remind him where they are, what they are doing. He understands him too well....too much. Tom is caught between hating the way the care bubbles up in him and the need to keep it. To keep one thing that is nice close to him. There is just something about how strangely together they are. How fate has brought them close and held them that way. Others could have wanted some sort of bold transformation from him but Harry seemed to like him long as he wasn’t out to murder. It’s a weird feeling foreign that he can feel from Harry and through their bond. 

Waxling looks knowingly at Tom and he has to refrain from scowling at her. “Think that answers the question of if you two are dating. So how long has it been going on?” 

Harry answers before Tom can. “It is impossible to know for how long, as it sort of just happened there really was not initial. I want to go out with you.”

No there wasn’t, there still wasn’t. Tom doesn’t even know if they are really dating, they are just close. He doesn’t know if he wants to put a label to the way that he feels. Because he knows, deep down inside that he is only able to care for Harry, there is nothing deeper than his need to keep him. But he knows that his need is not rooted with the emotion that he has never felt, the one that relationships of the dating kind are usually entitled and lead to. Love is just a very hard word to think about, or even want to acknowledge. 

“Just more of a need to be closer to each other.” Tom finishes flawlessly for Harry looking at the person that he truly does feel a connection with, though he is not sure how deep it runs. Just that he might kill the barista that keeps giggling to her friend. 

“Very cute.” Waxling smiles at them both. “How would you describe your relationship?” 

“Loving?” Harry raises an eyebrow, “I suppose. He is my best friend and knows everything about me. I’ve known him most of my life and can say that I am happiest with him.” 

It burns him a little to hear the word love in regards to him. He wants to know if Harry can feel that. He wants to know what it feels like…no… no, he mustn't think that. 

Waxling has a surprised look on her face. 

“Sorry it's hard to put exactly into words.” Harry rubs at that back of his head. “Sometimes you just know that you fit with someone.” 

“I feel the same.” Tom holds Harry’s hand tighter in an attempt to feel through their bond if he means that. He has a feeling that he does, but it is like most the things in Tom’s life that sound too good to be true. Most good things have been illusions or things that set him down an even darker path than before. Power and such did not gain him what he had wanted nor trie happiness only brief satisfaction. “I can tell him anything, and what I don’t he just seems to know. He can read me better than anyone else, I am not the most expressive, but he always seems to know. None before have cared to truly know me, nor have I felt such a connection to. It was almost like we were destined to have our worlds intersect.” Tom shrugs. “There really isn’t too much to say other than that.” 

Yes they were fated. They were tangled up together with souls and fate, and there was nothing that would take Tom from Harry. There was nothing that would take Harry away from him. There is no better proof than the way that Harry is looking at him before he seems to compose himself and act as he normally does. 

~/*\~

It's almost like Tom knows what to say, yes Waxling is eating it up but so is Harry. He knows that he is. He wants it to be that case. He wants Tom to care for him more than any before him. It is scary the obsessiveness that he knows comes with Tom’s version of love. But it is almost like not much else matters. Harry has wanted a fairly normal life and Tom could offer that. They could fill roles that they both needed. He meant it when he said that what they had was hard to put into words, and Tom had become someone that was like his best friend, if not more so because he knew him even the dark parts and liked him. There was no doubt about it, and Tom did not decide to end their friendship and relationship over petty things or even the serious things. They were as Tom put it destined to have their worlds intertwine. 

“Here he goes, getting all poetic.” Harry rolls his eyes, doing a good job of concealing exactly how he feels about that statement. 

“You like it when I am romantic.” Tom defends slipping easily into their almost normal routine. 

“Define like?” Harry smirks.

“As in if I do it you give me attention.” Tom holds up their intertwined hands a little so that they are on the table instead of at their side. 

“Yes, like a strong elbow to the side.” Harry raises an eyebrow because putting their hands on display like that seems like a justifiable cause. 

Waxling hums to herself making a side note on her paper. “Now I don’t want to intrude but can we talk about how you first met, and confirm or deny that you were taken by Death Eaters Harry.”

And so Harry and Tom spin their tale. Tom was the son of Lord Voldemort and one of the lower half-bloods in the ranks. It had been due to human weaknesses such as lust that had brought it on, not a need for an heir. His mother had been a willing participant for the sole purpose as she had been excited to serve her Lord. Harry had to attest that there were members like Bellatrix Lestrange that would have been far too happy to fulfill that wish though he kept that to himself. However Tom's 'mother' had fled with the realization of pregnancy as she feared what could have happened to herself or the child if she would have been found out not to have used the proper protection. Tom described growing up in hiding, and then being taken when he was 4 and starting to show signs of accidental magic from his mother and placed in the care of a pureblood wizard named Avery and Tom would have guessed him to be in his 80’s. Tom was raised with the idea that he would take his father’s place in a highly abusive home. Which won sympathy points, but Harry knew that it had been the case, and very true to the home that had started in creating the monster that was Voldemort. Tom didn’t go into very much detail but he did bring up the fact that food being withheld was common. 

Harry took over explaining that he was taken and that they had tried to force him to replicate the magic that could have been used to defeat their lord after it became clear that he had no memory of what happened to their Lord. But he had memories of his parents' deaths. 

“My earliest memory is a flash of green.” Harry speaks honestly, “The next is my aunt telling me that I am a disgrace, a freak and that my parents had it coming for being such abnormalities. They attempted to beat the magic out of me, but the incidents persisted. It was almost a blessing to be kidnapped.”

“Dumbledore placed you in the home, yes? Against your parent's wishes.” Waxling leans forward. Harry has a feeling that she is doing her best to be respectful, but there is a hint at how much she wants the story and confirmation. 

“That is correct, though I did not find that out till much later. He thought that blood magic wards would protect me. And trust me they did from anything that would have gotten me in the outside world but not what was in the house. If he cared at all he wouldn’t have placed me there or would have at least thought to look. I tried to run away and made it past the wards where I was swiftly picked up. I met Tom shortly after. Mr. Avery was not a very kind man. I particularly remember him cruicoing Tom for refusing to practice one on me.” 

Waxling stopped writing. “You were cruicioed?” 

Tom nods, “Quite a few times among other beatings.” Tom does a very good job of being bothered by the question. “It was hard to watch anything happen to Harry, I promised nothing would happen to him.”

The other did, Harry had nothing to fear when it came to Tom and he had a feeling that if anyone were to try and hurt him that Tom would kill them. No exaggerations were needed there, not that Harry needed to be saved from others. He could handle himself just fine. 

“It's why he stepped in a lot.” Harry lies with the most pathetic sounding voice possible. “It was devastating to see him in such pain.” 

He can make the face he needs to match the tone by thinking of what it was like for Tom to mend his soul, how it looked. How he imagined it felt. 

“You were younger.” Tom says easily. 

“As if that mattered, you're only 2 and a half years older.” Harry gets angry for him. “You didn’t deserve to have your nose broken.”

“And you did not deserve to be locked in the cupboard for a room.” Tom's eyes widen momentarily and then assures him of that. “And I was older, I could take it.”

“Both of you should never have had to endure that.” Waxling says softly stopping it from going further into dramatics. “You both escaped, but how old were you?”

“I am not really that sure.” Tom says bitterly. “It was quick enough that they had not yet decided to try and force one of us to kill the other. They wanted the next Dark Lord and would only put the effort into training one of us passed the point that we were at. It was not exactly an easy task.”

“We bounced around a little.” Harry hesitated. “Tom was a bit hurt from the breakout, and we had to lay low. Morte sort of took us in for a bit, before we could figure out if we had any family. It was from there finding Pettigrew and freeing Sirius became a top priority as well as keeping low so that no other former or current Death Eaters would try to take us back.”

Harry shivered for good measure.

“They will not harm you as long as I live.” Tom says confidently, pulling him close in a very convincing display of concern and care. But Harry has to wonder if part of the statement is another promise. They have not really touched on what Tom wanted to do about them. 

Things wrap up flawlessly, from there. Waxling was going to have her work cut out for her with creating the story, and any investigation into Avery Senior would not go very far, he and his wife had died a few years ago and their son was in Azkaban. The other Avery descendent would not have anything conflicting evidence for or against their involvement. 

Harry is very confident that it will ruffle a few feathers, and the pressed charges against Rita were going to be taken into full account. If she survived firing being hit by the bus off people thinking that she had taken advantage of 2 traumatized teenage boys for her own gain would make financially her writing take a hard hit. Dumbledore was going to be hit with this as well, and hard. Harry might not have gone into excessive details, but he had confirmed for all outside of the courtroom the mess that was his previous home life. Anything that Dumbledore said about Tom being Voldemort would end in flames as Tom had Harry plant some things at the old Avery estate. Burner wands were easy to make it seem that they were used for dark magic, and it was easy enough to make a room look like a child's. 

~/*\~

Sirius asked him to practice spell work with him as Harry went about trying to research a good place to take Loki. Tom had interpreted it correctly when Sirius said that he wanted to practice spell work he really meant that he wanted to practice defensive and offensive spells. It was a test. It had to be one. Sirius was seeing if Tom could protect himself and Harry. It becomes clear to him that he must do well, and lucky enough for him he had always excelled when it came to these sorts of things. 

“We’ll apparate to the estate.” Sirius nods his head.

Tom already feels like this is a strike against him. He hasn’t attempted long-distance apparition with only half of his soul. He knows from experience that if he uses too much magic on reserve he feels worn out. He has not wanted to get splinched, and even if he is able to make the leap, he will probably collapse when he makes it there. 

“I can’t exactly apparate, Harry, is the one that can.” He does his best to keep a controlled face. 

Sirius to his surprise does not laugh at him, his jaw loosens at that. “I will have to teach you, its a skill that is going to come in handy for times that you are not with Harry or when you need to make a quick getaway.”

“You misunderstand.” Tom wants it to be known at one point he could. “Since the accident that damaged my core I haven’t tried to. I didn’t want to get splinched.” 

“Makes sense, but you should get into the practice of short distance again at the very least. It can help seem like you went further and you can hide.” Sirius holds out a hand to him and he takes it. 

They materialize in the field at the vacation home. The sun is high and Tom is reminded that the Quidditch cup is probably wrapping up about now, and that soon students would be returning to Hogwarts again. It's weird as he might look young, but he feels old. Standing next to someone that was technically younger than him, but looked like they were ancient. Sirius had bags under his eyes that should not be there and yet he looked at him with something of a warm smile. Like Tom actually means something to him. Which can not be true, the only reason that Sirius has to put up with him is Harry and the damage that it would cause if he were to ever split away from him. It could happen. Tom could do something that was so unforgivable that even Harry could not put it aside. Technically Tom had already done horrors that no normal person would forgive, it was hard to picture himself doing something worse that would cross that line. 

It feels like it happens outside of his body the agreeance to a practice duel. He isn’t really paying much attention to what Sirius is telling him. Tom just knows that he shouldn’t use anything that is lethal or perhaps permanently damaging. Which takes out his first few spells that would be the simplest to use. There is no way to block a killing curse, and it only had to hit once. Cruico was another good spell that if it did land and there was a reason for them to be alive, most wouldn’t be able to do anything more than scream and drop their wands. There were other spells that he could use, but he knew they too could really potentially kill Sirius or wound him to the point there wouldn’t be a way to save him in time. 

He will limit himself to Hogwarts type of spells and the basics that were taught outside if for defense. It would level the playing field. Yes, he would win with just those there wasn't a real reason to go into the very dark spells that he knew. It would probably unsettled Harry's Godfather and he was already on edge about him.

He steps towards the other end of the field and holds his wand at the ready. The yew sings with the things that it has done, it sings with the need to fight, and to win. It was a wand that was without compromise. Yew trees were not as pliable, they were not bendable, they were rigid and Tom had always thought himself to be much like a Yew. Non-bending, and connected with its sign of immortality, life, and resurrection. And Tom had done these things, combined with his phoenix he could infer that he was meant for rebirth. If there was something that was said for Yew was its ability to adapt and change. Perhaps that was the only reason that he stood where he was, the chance to rise from the ashes again, great and with better purpose than before. There is a drive to win, fight, to succeed. But the reasons perhaps are changing. There is a need to protect, yes just as Harry had said that he had done in the interview. There is a need to keep this change. 

He wants to win against Dumbledore. 

As Sirius fires the first spell, Tom deflects it. He moves to the side as a red spell flies by his head. Returning fire with a stunning spell that Sirius deflects like he is swatting a bug out of the air. Tom hits harder, throwing a barrage of spells that he knows one after another, and Sirius is struck in the arm, he shields the other and calls the ground to make a cover for himself, which leaves Tom in the open and Sirius with something to duck behind. 

The ‘older’ man whips a few spells at him from his hiding place, Tom obliterates the wall, and Sirius is far from the mud, and rock wall he had made as it crumbled down, he is feet away by apparition. Pressing his attack, and Tom feels as he deflects most of them, his magical reserve dwindling. But he refuses to lose. 

He tries a few disarming charms, and then a few basic hexes. They are again deflected. And Tom knows that he is out of practice if he is losing to this. Harry and Sirius had been practicing off and on for weeks and he didn't have before now the ability. His first match vs. Sirius ends with Sirius having the wind knocked out him but landing a truly powerful stunner that has Tom on the ground seeing stars. 

He waits only a few minutes to catch his breath before he asks to go again. He will not be beaten like this. Sirius is pushed back, and Tom actually manages to hit him multiple times, throwing him back. Before he gets his shield broke through and thrown into one of the small trees. Which causes a few nasty bruises that he will not complain about. He is not weak. 

The next match, Tom feels went worse than the previous probably because his body is warning him, that he shouldn’t be pushing it like he was and after a simple knockback jinx ends it. Sirius calls it officially off and heads inside to make some sort of snack. To be honest Tom is not really listening after the snack part and promises that he will like it. He just doesn’t have the stamina to mount a fight for longer than 20 spells, whether it be wandless, verbal, or nonverbal. It wiped him out and it mattered little the power he put behind it. 

He can’t be angrier with himself if he tried. 

He did this to himself.

He had made himself weak by cutting out bits of his own soul. He made it so that he is tired, after something that before he would have been able to do with a flick of his wand, even without deadly force disarm an opponent. 

How is he to defeat Dumbledore when he came after him, Harry, them really like this? 

He would have to kill the other instantly or get himself into a very public place so that everyone could see him get the shit beat out of him. They would truly be able to see how crazy Dumbledore was then. It would be at least it less embarrassing as he was supposed to be only 16 and who could beat someone so ‘pristine’ as the Headmaster at that age? But it's not humbling to think that he is having a hard time with defending himself, it's embarrassing, and makes him feel pathetic. No, near worthless, if he can not even scratch the surface of the things he knows without taking small breaks between bursts.

He held his face with his right hand, the other held tight to his wand still. 

He had lost his touch with dueling in this state, of course, he had not been able to curse the way that he was used to. But it does little to curb the near all-encompassing anger that he feels. He has nothing to direct it towards but himself and Dumbledore and being angry at himself is awful. 

He hit the nearby brush with a slicing spell, one after another until it's all clumps of grass and twigs, and he is puffing and he takes his anger out on a tree next, peeling off the bark as if it is flesh. Cutting deep with hexes, burning at the leaves. He can’t force any more magic out of himself and he sits as he feels dizzy and like he is going to vomit. His hands shake still even as he has nothing left in him even to pull at the annoying weed flowers that he is crushing under himself or curse the small bird that is singing too loudly above him. 

Tom hates his life at that moment. 

Truly fully hates it. 

He breathes trying to calm down. 

Sirius is standing practically over him. “Hey have some.” He hands him a water bottle and puts down some sort of chips and dip. Not that Tom wants anything, not even the water. The heat doesn't bother him. His anger is what is really burning in him. Tom actually feels like laughing because it is just so stupid, but its also an attempt to make him feel better. It might be one of the few that he can remember is hedging on real care involved. 

“You did well.”

Tom rolls his eyes. 

“You did.” Sirius insists. “You’re just holding yourself up to a level that you are not at yet. When your core heals, you will be able to be much stronger. I was having a hard time countering you.”

“At first right.” Tom puts his wand back into his sleeve. “Then it just fizzled out.” 

“No, until you pushed yourself far too hard.” Sirius insisted. “I know that you think that you have to protect Harry or that you have something that you need to prove, but it is okay to take a break and build up slowly to wherever you were before.”

He puts his hand on his shoulder, the pressure is very light, but it feels like it's rooting him in place. 

“Tom I care about you, you know.” 

Tom again has the sudden urge to laugh, and he hardly controls it. If he knew what he was, if he knew who he was, it wouldn’t be that way. And he doesn’t know why it seems to burn funnily. Before it never mattered if anyone cared because Tom knew that they were using him and those that weren’t he was using them and chucked them up to be fools. He though finds it hard to hate Sirius he has been very useful, and Harry cares greatly about him. As aggravating as having to share Harry is, he knows that it is best that Harry has others to bother and extend his kindness to. 

“I know I suck at all the feels shit.” Sirius looks out towards the far treeline. “But it is true. I have come to think of you and Harry as my own. My pack as Remus would call it, and our original one is very small now. I never had a real family, I was burned off the family tree for my belief, for who I was friends with, and the house that I landed in. Harry and I consider ourselves family, and I am sure that he wants you to be part of it.” 

Tom huffs because he knows that Harry wants him to be part of it. 

“I want you to be part of it.” Sirius says with a steadiness and sureness that trifles all. “Harry needs you, and cares for you, and spending time with you has made me grow very fond of you.” 

And yes Tom laughs now bitterly, because it's hilarious that Black wants to claim him to be part of this messed up, fucked up family that Harry has been making himself. They would have the cats, Black, a werewolf, Harry the master of death, and the fallen Dark Lord that has little magic to speak of. Oh, what a combination that it all would make. 

“You don’t even know me.” Tom hisses. “You have no idea what I am and what I have done.” 

Not that he is going to tell him. He is not going to even touch it. 

“No but I can tell a lot about a person by how they act, and trust me I’ve seen through your guise a few times. You're a grumpy, edgy, teenager but we all are at some point. You have faced horror along with Harry, and I don’t doubt that you have had to do things that were awful when you thought it was the right thing to do. You are not defined by your lineage or anything else but the future choices that you make. Your past does not have to steal your present.”

It hits him just how much Sirius must have gotten attached to him. And he wonders where this was when he was a child? Where was this sentiment, this belief that he could be anything? That he wasn’t defined by the things that he thought he had to do in order to survive at wools? Where was a guide with love that he when it was needed? Perhaps he would have manipulated them because he knows how jagged he was even as a child. But to have felt love given to him freely. Something that has never been done. It could have helped. It could have at least put him where he was now, with the need to be something of a decent person, and mending his soul. He probably never would have split it.

And then perhaps he wouldn’t feel as sick as he does to his stomach. 

He is saddened by it, so saddened that he never had this, this kind hold around him, when he was younger. 

“It is hard to believe you.” Tom sighs deeply, “I have always felt unwanted, by anyone besides Harry and Harry up until recently had no reason to care about me as much as he has.”

“That's the thing about love, true love is unconditional.”

True love was a joke, a lie, a disillusionment not to want to be completely alone and the sole reason that Harry must see anything renewable inside of him. His doubt in himself has only grown since accepting that part of himself. And it has pointed out just how undesirable that he really is, yes he has nice looks, and will gain his power back, but inside he is horrible. Not even deep down he knows that he is nothing but hate and death. The good in him only rarely reaches surface levels and he is still selfish with it. It will probably never change either. He was bound perhaps to always end up like this. 

“My own mother abandoned me. She was weak, sickly, and I hate her for it.” Tom spits moving away from Sirius’s grip. “My father was a monster that she had no love for only delusional worship of the idea of freedom that he could bring her, the image that he represented. He didn’t have a shred of love in him. He could not feel it for any other than himself. He left her to willow and die, and he left me to be neglected and hated and called a devil's child all for what I was. For what I could not control. Every beating, every hit, every starvation, jeer, and all made me believe it. I gave them hell for bringing hell to me and I would do it all again.”

Magic cackles and electrifies the air. 

He would kill them again if he could. He had come to them, he had come and introduced himself. He might have hated Muggles, but he hadn’t gone up to that house to kill them. He didn’t know what he had hoped for, maybe it was that they didn’t know that he existed, that if they didn’t want him that they could at least give him something for the suffering they had placed him into. He would have settled for a place to say that wasn’t the bloody orphanage and was away from a war that they wanted to draft him into. But no. They had described how his mother was a hideous creature, and that he was much the same. They looked at him and sneered their privileged faces contorting, making it apparent that they thought him no better than scum even if he shared their blood. Tom had learned the same hard lesson over. He was taught at 4 and 6 when he had been dumped back at the orphanage gates, families were overrated. They did not love. No one truly loved anyone. They did things for obligations and selfish reasons. The people that had taken him the first time, their son had died early, they wanted a replacement. A replacement that even at his best Tom could not hope to be, not with magic buzzing when he was happy and when he was scared. At 6 he had held onto hope that if he really tried to suppress it he could, he would be anything they wanted him to be. He would be perfect, and still strange things happened, they protected him and he was brought back again. 

It comes out in a prayer almost the words he had repeated to himself when he had bounced a few times and realized there was a possibility that his father was still alive, that he was a Muggle. “And still I want my father to burn. I would kill him if I could, I would kill my grandparents on my mother's side, for pushing this upon her and making her run to him.”

“Trauma creates change that a person didn’t choose, healing however is creating a change that you do choose. You don’t have to love them, nor do you have to forgive them. But I am sure that it helps to have let it all out.” Sirius smiles weakly. “I still do not love my mother, but I have come to terms with who she was and how she was raised. I choose to forgive her, and my brother for choosing Voldemort.”

Forgiveness. 

He has no right to want that for himself.

He has no want to give that to the people that left him, the only people besides Dumbledore that could have saved him. 

And yet why is he so sad over it? 

The anger is not burning as strongly, it's like a candle has been blown out. 

He has never felt bad about their deaths. He had deemed it necessary. He has not felt saddened by it. His father had been horrible, but his mother had raped his father to create him. She had torn another family apart. They had a right to fear something like him. He had relished in it before, but not so much anymore. For what did their deaths truly buy him? It hadn't made him feel better, and it had given him the need to cut another part of him out of himself. Create yet another Horcrux. Yes they were disgusting, but they could not be expected to love him, nor would they have had a suitable excuse to satisfy his anger at them. They were horrible people… but even horrible people did not necessarily have to die. He was proof of that. 

And that horrible stinging burning is back. It hits him hard and he hits the ground. And he curses, and screams and cries and Sirius does what Harry would have done. Does his best to help him ride it out and through the horrible pain of it. Tom acknowledges that he has fears, and he is still saddened. When it ends and he has mended another 2 small shards of his soul. He is faced with the fact that he was unwanted by his blood, and others like them, but is wanted by Harry and apparently Sirius as well.

 **Congratulations are in order two soul shards in one go.** Death helps him up, he is wearing a human guise and Sirius is sleeping as mortals are not supposed to see Death or probably hear this sort of conversation. Death chuckles and it is an eerie sound. **Make no mistake, you are on a redemptive path. Harry's core is like that of holly, it repels the dark ever striving for the light. Just like the hardy tree does not bend, not to the type of soil or elements, and ever the protector he embodies his core. I say that they are fitting to be Yew and Holly intertwined compatible cores and both reborn wouldn’t you say?**

It is like he was able to read his thoughts from before. Tom blinks slowly sitting up, it was not as horrible as before. He knows that he has 2 to go still, smaller shards than those before it. But still, 2 left and he is exhausted. Too exhausted to play Death's games. 

**I do have to wonder though. Both Holly and Yew have the association with tales of doomed love, in which only the lovers' tenacity keeps them together, but only sometimes results in their reconnection beyond the grave. I much look forward to seeing if you and Harry meet a similar fate.**

And so Death bows to him and is gone before Tom can even mutter “what the hell do you mean by that?”

~/*\~

Both Tom and Sirius seem a bit closer after they are gone far longer than Harry would have thought a few duels would have gone. He is happy they are closer even if Tom seems like he is in a somber mood for the rest of the day and early morning when their vet appointment was. 

The vet was adamant about seeing Loki as soon as possible and Harry and Tom both took Loki to a small clinic that was at the edge of London. Tom can deny it all he wants, but Harry has a strong feeling that he loves the cat too much not to be in the direct loop. The waiting room was painted with fun cats and dogs chasing various toys as it was a muggle veterinary facility the imagines were not moving. Tom was sitting with Loki in his lap, holding her by a red color that he had fixed to her, that had tags on it, to make them look like better owners. 

Loki is being pretty chill about the whole thing, though she is very alert. Her big green eyes watch the small dog in the cone intently every time that he whines. Dr. John Giannopoulos was highly ranked in his field. He looked like he was in his late 60’s and had thick glasses that reminded Harry of magnifying glasses. His skin looked like old worn leather, but his blue eyes were warm and telling that every animal that he interacted with seemed like a treasure to him. 

“So you have been throwing up lately have you Loki?” The Vet adjusted his coat.

Loki flicked her tail as she sat towards the edge of the metal examination table. 

“Has she had a change in diet, and or possibly been eating something that she isn’t supposed to?” 

“Not that we know of.” Harry answers politely. 

“Hmm.” Dr. Giannopoulos picks her up a little and feels along her belly. “Her nipples are a little dark in color. Is your cat fixed?”

“No.” Tom swiftly answers. He looks like he is against the idea of fixing anything that has to do with reproductive organs. Harry has to remind himself that Tom’s era had the sick idea to do that to certain people that some thought to be undesirable. 

“I usually recommend spaying, and neutering for the health benefits and for the betterment of feline and canine temperament. How long has the vomiting been going on?”

“About a week.” Tom sighs. “It's fairly new, and has gone along with her need to gather cloth and plus objects.”

“I see.” The doctor straightens up. “I have a feeling that Loki here might have been experiencing some morning sickness. Cats can sometimes experience this within their first few weeks of pregnancy much like humans. The other is nesting, she is getting a place ready to possibly give birth. Her symptoms and the slight body changes around her mammary glands would hint that she is about 2 or 2 ½ weeks in. Of course, until I do a quick ultrasound, I can't be one hundred percent sure.”

And so just like that they are in another room and Harry can see 3 little kittens that are in the works of being made. 

“Which cat got her pregnant?” Tom is holding Loki like she might break as they leave the office. Harry is not sure he likes the idea of kittens but doesn't seem to want to cause Loki any discomfort. 

“I mean we have 3 guesses, but I know it was Voldie. He has been hanging around her often now, licking and nipping at her ears. And Loki will lay on him.” Harry shrugs.

“You had to pick the hairless one.” Tom glares as if betrayed at Loki who yawns in response. “You couldn’t have picked the orange one, he at least can stand my presence and doesn't look like a raw turkey.” 

“Relax the kittens will all have fur, being hairless is a recessive trait.” 

“At least we won't have 3 raisins then.” Tom mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get into talking about the next chapter I just have to say that I am very grateful for all the love this fic has gotten. You have no idea how wonderful it is to see the comments before I post the next chapter and it just brings a smile to my face. So thank you for all the support and encouragement, whether you left a comment, kudos, or just kept reading. I don't think that Autors thank people enough for that! So Thank You.
> 
> So anyway, when I was making this chapter I found that I liked it more than most previous ones that I have had to write. So it went a bit longer than expected, and I decided not to make a more than 10,000-word chapter and break it off here. So Death will met Sirius formally next chapter as Morte, and which is probably a good thing because the next chapter was planned to be a lot shorter but disasters for our characters XD so it probably is for the best. 
> 
> See you all next chapter for **Deathly Visits.**


	16. Deathly Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death visits and Harry realizes that he may have fallen for Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again my loves . ôヮô

Harry and Tom went with the cat to the Vet. Sirius had never been to a vet, and he planned to keep it that way. There had been a near occurrence when he was in his dog form that someone that tried to catch him and bring him in, but even in his fluffy form and being just out of prison, he wasn’t completely out of it. There was no way that he could have been outsmarted and hauled away. He would gladly take handouts though. He had acted cute for those. People liked friendly dogs and would sometimes take pity. Muggle or magical alike. And because there were not that many Wizards that could turn into animals or many registered animagus, it worked very well to his advantage. 

Sirius had just settled down to listen to some music and read the paper and have some coffee. He had little care how old that made him seem. He just wanted to relax a little while there were fewer people in the house. 

Grimmauld Place was a decent sized house considering where it was located. However, with the amount of time that his makeshift family liked to spend in it, it felt crowded. Most of the time Sirius would admit that he liked that. He had spent so long alone, on the run, and in his cell. There hadn’t been much life that he cared about. Being around Harry and Tom was really like being home. He could hear them arguing softly about things or hear the cats moving around, sometimes Kreacher yelling at them. There were familiar traces of Dark Magic and the Light that must have been from Harry fixing the place up. He liked it here, but that did not mean that he did not like having a little alone time. He is thinking about leaving for a short amount of time, but there is also the threat of Dumbledore looming close by and he just isn’t sure it is the best time.

Then again… there probably was never a right time with the way things were. He could just apparate back should there be any word of trouble. The teens would probably like some space as they were so used to it just being the two of them. 

He sighs deeply. There are times that he wonders, really wonders what Lily and James would have wanted. What they would have done with the knowledge of what could happen, and the way that their son had such an attachment to another person. One that was just as attached to him. The son of someone that was so evil, that showed signs of instability but could really be a positive influence in getting Harry out of the dusty home, with its stale air. 

He flips open the pre-copy of Witch Weekly after glancing through the main paper's headlines. Witch Weekly had delivered their article early, less than 24 hours after the interview, it would officially be printed in the following day's issue. But Waxling had wanted to send a copy early for the people that were no doubt going to make her a fortune. 

He liked the photo that graces the cover. Tom is smiling a real smile by what he can tell he has his arm around Harry, that has one of those embarrassed smiles, but he does look slightly happy. He can very much see Harry elbowing Marvolo over the action or rolling his eyes with a sarcastic comment after the photo as retaliation. 

Moon Moon who seems to know that Sirius doesn’t like cats, creeps up onto the table to sit uncomfortably close to his coffee cup. At least this one was not as bad as the hairless one. If Moon Moon was half the cat that Voldie was, there wouldn’t be any coffee mug left and there would be a shredded paper. 

He reads it intensely every word that makes up the story of Tom and his Godson. His fingers tightening around the paper of the magazine at some points as they are dark, and he knew that some of the things were. He had guessed some of the abuse, but to imagine a child being taught the unforgivables, being forced to practice them on another human being. 

Tom is someone that is brave, James probably would have appreciated him. Harry is something else entirely, bounced from one hot pan to another, and still is able to look at people in the eye and see the best in people. Able to find love in a person that probably had been forced at times to hurt him. Marvolo had seemed nothing but remorseful and bitter at the fact that there was a very good possibility that Harry loved him. Love would have been a weakness to an aspiring Dark Lord, and children that were in such a situation but also a grip of strength. Such things had bound Tom and Harry closer than any that Sirius had ever known. 

His thoughts are instantly jolted when the front door slams open. 

“Congratulations you’re an uncle.” Harry beams.

“What?” Sirius feels very stupid for a few seconds as all he can do is blink.

“Tom’s cat is pregnant and you are officially the adoptive uncle.” Harry holds the door open so that it will not bounce back and hit Tom, who is holding a very tired of being held looking Loki. “We’re having kittens.” 

“Long story short she isn't sick and the shriveled bat-eared monstrosity decided to force her to have his spawn.” Tom doesn’t show the same enthusiasm. “The only benefit is that they will not be raisins and Loki doesn’t seem to be in any serious discomfort yet.” 

Sirius winces at the thought of more cats. More hair, more breaking of things, more things that got clawed. 

“I am seriously considering getting the cats fixed after this,” Harry says earnestly. “I don’t mind a few more but those two lovely tabbies have the ability to make quite a few offspring. Voldie seems to really love Loki and the same can be said about our black fluff ball. Even if Tom wants to insist that she is innocent in all this.” 

“We’re not fixing her.” Tom scowls. “There is nothing wrong with her. If anything there just has to be a few spells that work like birth control, nothing surgical then.” 

“Those are for people though.” Harry points out. 

“Well, I am sure there is an adaptable way for it to be done so that I don’t have to trust Muggles to put her to sleep and then bring her back.” 

“The surgery has very little complications.” Harry sighs. 

While Sirius knows little about the ‘fixing’ so to speak of animals. He does know that Muggles did it with little issues as Harry was saying. Still, he can see Tom’s standpoint of not trusting them with a slightly magical creature such as Loki. She has a bit of darker magic that lingers on her, that connects itself well to Tom’s. While Sirius does not have the standpoint that Wizards are better than Muggles and that Muggle lives are worth any less than Wizards. It doesn’t mean that he likes aspects of their culture or trust them with things that were Medical related. There were many things that Wizards had cures for that Muggles were still scratching the surface of, and using rather harmful medications to treat. 

“Doesn't matter.” Tom has a better hold on Loki, who is nuzzling into his elbow. 

Sirius knows that that doesn’t matter. It's not a war that Harry is going to win. Sirius supposes that Tom’s inventive nature could be useful to solve a problem that no one knew that they had. Probably could make a pretty good gallian off of the idea if it. Even though it was one of those things that he would have seen on those Tele ads for Muggles. 

~/*\~

Congratulations you are an uncle is probably not the best way to tell Sirius that Loki is having kittens, not with the way that he choked on his coffee in his immediate need to say what, but it is a rather fond memory for later if Tom is going, to be honest with himself. Better than what his reaction would have been if he was in the other man’s shoes. He knew that Sirius had the habit of sometimes turning into a dog when things became hard to handle. It really put Harry’s laughter about adopting strays almost a year ago into perspective. That being said, Tom knows that most dogs didn't like cats and vice versa. It also explained the reason behind the cat's insistence to terrorize Sirius, the best way that four-legged and only slightly intelligent animals could, by bothering the hell out of him for both attention, and out of spite. 

Still, the cats have grown on him. Well, at least Loki has. She had always been loving, a bit destructive but loving. She slept curled up with him at night. No matter the nightmare or curse that might have been let off. She was there, a faithful companion that would seek him out during the day between naps to lay on what he was reading, or to bat at his quill. She is a bit more clingy with her newfound hormones and possibly motherhood. Tom is taken by how loving Loki is, she wants attention more so than she usually does and he is more than happy to give it to her. It is something of a weird bond that is between them. He has never had a familiar but he would consider her to be of more help than a hindrance. While magic was what kept her alive, and functioning as Harry had been kind enough to hand over the plans that he had used when creating her. It did not really aid more than his mood. 

Perhaps that was her gift, the ability to bring peace with the flick of her fluffy tail, or the need to tell him to break by looking at him with large emerald eyes. She is much like Harry in that sense. Of course, Harry does not randomly demand cuddles from him, nor mew nothings at him when He doesn’t know where he went. It would be strange if he did. 

As the 3rd probably weekends for Loki and there is only a small bump on her belly, hardly noticeable to probably anyone but him. He spends the most time with her so it should be fairly obvious. He is still not thrilled with her partner. Voldie would not be slipping away when it came time for the kittens to be born, Tom wouldn’t let him. He knows from the pamphlets that males are not always the most affectionate when the kittens are young but can take up more active roles when they are a little older to teach them to hunt. Which he will give Voldie credit for, he was already hunting to provide for Loki. Not that she really needed it. Tom had adjusted her diet. But he can not unsee the way that the cat comes to her bringing gifts of dead mice or cat treats. The smug crinkly face of Voldie is hard not to hate though, especially because he is quite the chatterbox. 

He was developing a few spells that might work on the feline variety but won’t know until he tests them. He knows that if there are more kittens in the future, he will just have to find them very suitable homes where they will be treated well. They can not have near infinity kittens. He has no real want unlike Harry to restrict Loki if she wants to be a mother. Her small place that she has put together is warm, cozy, and full of everything plush a cat could ask for. When she wasn’t seeking Tom out she was hiding there under the bed. Which is where she was now as Tom dug out other magical books that he might need for more personal reasons. 

Harry watches him from his place at his desk. He has that suspicious look, but it's not like Tom is doing anything that warrants concern. He is just looking into some strengthening potions and better ways in which to ward their home. There are more things in it that are worthy of protection. He will only let himself be soft for Harry, Loki, her children, and Sirius. There is no other room for kindness or fondness. 

“Sirius is getting concerned that Morte has yet to give us course-related material. I fear that Death will have to pay us a visit and a couple of fake lesson plans.” Harry folds his arms. “He is worried about my OWLs.” 

If they were to tell Sirius the truth this would not have been a topic of conversation, nor concern. It also would be easily avoided if the man decided to just pack up for a bit, but Sirius cared about them and care came with all sorts of issues and problems of its own. It is particularly why Tom can not decide if he likes the fact that he has obtained it or not from the man. Yes it was nice to have someone other than Harry to talk to about things, especially things that involved Harry, but it did come with random check-ins to see how he was, and the expectation that Tom at least gives him some sort of reaction when he felt the need to bother him with trivial conversations about everything from radio to weather. It would have had disastrous consequences if Sirius was to find out the truth, but maintaining the image of a student is just aggravating and impractical. 

“I suppose that we could do a few fake lessons, but I might just take my NEWTs early as I have the knowledge and perhaps you should too. It would end what is sure to become tiresome quickly.”

“Probably but Morte could have a very interesting curriculum don’t you think.” Harry gestures to a few of the books that he has on his side of the office space that has been warded to keep prying eyes off of them. Of course, he had given Tom access as of late to the books. He is pretty sure the reason that Harry has done this is because he wants someone to talk to about the darker things that he has done with magic. Things that still taint the potions room. There is still evidence of signals that he doesn’t know the meaning behind, and there are the factors that are small and line his sternum. 

“While it would be fascinating to see what Death is able to come up with as a tutor, I prefer to try and get my internships and into some sort of career. It will look better for me, and you as well if we show higher marks early.”

“Fine.” Harry leans back in his chair. “I will request early testing but have Morte show in the meantime.”

“Do you really think he is going to be able to act human enough?” Tom can not help but wonder if the being that never looked or felt quite right to be around in human form would be up to the task of spending an unfavorable amount of time stuck in a human form. 

“No, but if we do as you suggest and test early, he hopefully can just pull off as very eccentric for the time that he has to be in the picture.” Harry shrugs and pulls out a piece of parchment, scribbling down some instructions and then heads for the kitchen. “I am mailing him now than before he gets too carried away with lesson plans.”

Tom is not quite sure how one sent a message to a being such as Death. The times that he has encountered the being it was because the other had just decided to pop in. 

Harry puts a hand over the paper. **Veni Omen Mortis**

The parcel envelope’s letters of address and recipient burn and seconds later there is a loud tapping against the window. Tom had been expecting a Raven or a crow, but what greets him is a massive beast of feathers. It is hardly able to fit through the wind, its wings are narrow, and the tail is wide. It is a mix of white and black. The head is slightly bold and has an almost blue shine to it, the white had a faint red cast to it. The most striking thing about it was the eyes, red and yellow swirled into something that was unnerving with the long talons that gripped the sill. It makes a loud strangle like cry and Tom levels it with a dark gaze as it all but looks predatory at the cats.

“She’s a bearded vulture.” Harry picks up some twine. “She only eats bones, you don’t have to worry about her causing any sort of issues.” Harry strokes the bird along the long feathered neck. 

“Death is made of bones.” Tom watches the big bird close its eyes the moment that Harry pets it .

“Morte has no real form, he is mostly darkness and yes there are some bones, but they never look right.” 

Harry easily convinces the large thing to let him tie the parchment to his leg and they have to open the window to the max and shove it slightly to get it to leave. It feels that no sooner have they sat down from completing such a feat and settled down to tea, that the bird has returned. In the middle of Harry insisting that they get a Tele as there were things that he would like to watch again, and he wanted to have a few other entertainments than books and the radio. 

The bird is not patent and moves itself to the table, flapping its massive wings and letting out a very loud screech.

“What the hell was that?” Sirius can be heard scurrying down the stairs. 

“The concept of time doesn’t exist in the afterlife,” Harry whispers softly to him as he stands to try and pin the bird a little to get the attached package from it.

Sirius’s eyes widen at the sight of the bearded vulture. 

“It’s Morte’s bird,” Tom explains over the fussing of the large bird that Harry was near wrestling at this point. 

“They thought to send us some supplies before they make a stop in.” Harry unfolded the letter, there were some shrunken books that fell out of the thicker envelope. Tom scoops them and puts them into his robe pockets for later. 

Sirius blinked a few times. “I don’t even know what that bird is, but I know that it’s pretty cool looking.” He recovers from his shock with a grin of appreciation.

“A type of vulture.” Harry seems to be a little tired repeating himself or it is from manhandling the bird. “A relatively calm and well-behaved scavenger, this one’s name is Daisy. 

Daisy tilts her head at her name. Tom wonders if all people named their creepy or possibly scary looking creatures friendly names like sals fluffy and fricking Daisy. There is wrapping at the door. Loud and 3 solid knocks. Another omen of Death, can the being be any more conceited or dramatic?

~/*\~ 

“Well, that would be Morte.” Harry smiled somewhat too brightly. 

There is the sound of the start of a storm and Tom looks just about ready to walk the hell away from the room and clean his hands of whatever it is that is going to take place. Harry had asked politely for Death not to cause theatrics but then he supposed that Morte had to make his own fun at this point while keeping it only slightly over the top. Being Death sounded like it got both lonely and boring. Harry opens the door to a very well dressed Death in his lovely lady form. Though the hair is a little shorter cut and the eyes a little less blue. He stands there with a smile on his face that looks almost natural like he has been practicing. 

Harry unfortunately could see that happening...

“Harry it is good to see you. Tom.” He looks past Harry and nods. 

He seems to be looking for an invitation in. So Harry bows a little letting him into the threshold. 

“You must be Sirius.” The voice is also off as Death never talked so normal before, now that Harry is really paying attention to the pitch and tone. His voice was very human, though he supposed this is only real-time that Harry has listened to him was when he was talking exclusively to him and Tom. There hadn’t been any that could hear the echoes past the end of his vocal pitch or at least anyone that mattered. “It is wonderful to finally meet you. Harry has spoken well of you during his letters.” 

Sirius sticks his hand out, smiling in a look that almost could be considered charming. Tom’s eye twitches and Harry rubs a little at his face, as Death had been in their home for less than a minute and Harry is thinking about asking him to leave. This must have been what it was like to have embarrassing parents or relatives. 

Death chuckled, taking his hand far too pleased. “Been a while since I have shaken hands with anyone, usually it's over deals or business. It is interesting that it is a form of greeting here.” 

“Where are you originally from?” Sirius questions, as shaking hands is a pretty universal greeting. 

“Neither here nor there. I spent the longest time in Africa in the beginning of my existence.” 

Sirius looks at Death a little oddly then as he makes a move to take his hand back. “That is an interesting way of saying that you grew up there.”

Death holds on perhaps too long, before releasing him. 

“I did, I visit there quite often still. I think that Egypt is still my favorite civilization. Such advances, and a magical cradle.” Death wanders further into the living room space. “Oh, Daisy would you be a dear and fly home.” The large bird listens and forces itself out of the kitchen space and towards the window. “I do hope that you haven’t had to push her, it would be most unfortunate if you did because she doesn't like it too much.” 

Tom and Harry share a look and Tom’s disappointed face says it all. 

“Harry mentioned that you specialize in the History of Magic and Ancient Magic and Runes.” Sirius gestures her to sit down as Kreacher looks over at Death and freezes momentarily. Death does have a very powerful presence, it leaks through the disguise that he wears. The nice black and purple-tinted robe, even with runes that Harry recognizes, can not contain all of the magic that makes him up. 

“I wouldn’t claim to be an expert but I know far more than most, sept maybe Fate. She likes to play cards close to her chest.” Death sits very nicely on the sofa. “I do believe that we should get acquainted and I shall give you recommendations for your charge’s educational pursuits.” 

Tom is taking very deep audible breaths next to him. Harry can almost laugh at the fact that they had left their seemingly great education to him, an Education that now could be called into question. But then again when Tom did stunning at his NEWTs it wouldn’t matter how strange Death seemed in comparison to all the O’s. The sad thing was even with a magical core restricted by the amount of soul that he had, Tom was far better than Harry could ever hope to be and more powerful. Tom’s rashness though, and quickness to anger would always be his undoing. 

“Harry and Tom seemed to be at the targets that were needed, if not above when they showed me the papers.”

Harry takes Tom’s hand and it feels really warm, soft almost. Tom looks at their joined hands and uses that as a way to pull him closer. The hold feels nice and Harry doesn’t move them to sit down in the case that the peacefulness goes away. Kreacher is starting to bring over some refreshments as there is no longer a bird to be annoyed or to scar the grumpy elf.

“Harry would like to take his NEWTs early like Tom.” Morte smiles too widely. “I do believe that he is ready.”

Death takes the cup from Kreacher by bidding it closer and to him, he makes the tea come out of the pot to follow. Kreacher watches with slight horror and Sirius watches with great amusement. Before the reality dawns on him that Harry is 14 and should be taking OWLs and not NEWTs as they were far off for most his ‘age’. 

“This early?” Sirius sounds amazed. “I knew that Harry was smart for his age but…”

“He is perfectly on par with the average intelligence of a 32-year-old.” Death shakes his head and takes a sip of his tea, makes a slight face, and then pulls it away. 

Harry had had tea from the underworld. There was nothing better, he feels slightly bad for Kreacher though, he had tried his best. 

“That’s good isn’t it considering that he is only 14?” 

“By those standards, I suppose you are correct,” Morte says lazily. “Tom is alright for his age. I suppose most lose knowledge at his age or think they can stop learning. Lord Gaunt is anything but forgetful or a slow learner.”

Yes, Harry has decided to sit them down so that he can restrain Tom if necessary from wringing Death’s neck. Not that it would hurt the being at all. 

“I suppose that Harry can take his early if he thinks that he is ready for it. I mean I am a bit late in the game to make choices for him academically.”

“Ah quite right on that one. I have known him for a very long time and I do believe that he is quite ready to tackle life on his own. Though I think wherever Harry is to go that Marvolo is sure to follow.” Death says rather proudly. 

Sirius makes a small face at the fact that Morte does indeed know him perhaps the best. But concedes and has a look over the prep work that Harry and Tom needed to look into for their NEWTs but by his face, Harry can tell that it’s not subject he is familiar with, not that Harry expected any less. But the hold Tom has on him is nice as they finish the tea. 

~/*\~

The night is dark, almost pitch black in fact. The sky is covered in a thick blanket of clouds, with no sight of a moon or a star. The castle shakes by the heavy beginning of fall winds. The students are arriving. Albus can see the puffs of smoke lifting over the treeline from the train. There is a stream of carriages slowly starting to move. The large Thistrals are hardly viable among the black paths. The boats have been cast onto the lake, Hagrid would be taking them across. 

New names. 

New faces. 

New lives that have just entered the Magical World. They are unaware of the danger. All of them are blissfully unaware. For none believe him that there is a war coming. He sees it on the horizon like the threatening rain. He feels it in his bones like the shifting of the cool winds. Tom Riddle is out there, he is out there playing games, this time that are more out in the open than they were the last time. The last time he had attacked viciously and quickly. It had been a mess of blood, and terrorism that was hard to predict. Most deaths related to Muggles, Muggleborns, and Muggle marrying Witches and Wizards. It was silent on all ends now. Severus had not heard word, or so he claimed of any rising unrest in the Death Eater ranks. Dumbledore didn’t know if he could trust the other on that one or not. 

He had stalled the return date a few days, as he had difficulty securing a teacher. The Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been a difficult possession to fill. The curse had been broken, and Dumbledore rejected Quirrell from the reapplication as he had been worried about the way in which he had broken it. Even though he called in what he would have called back up in the form of a man named Morte from his curse-breaking days, that may or may not have been related to Morte that was teaching Riddle and Harry. Which made it not partially an option that he liked, allowing randoms in the school without telling him and using some unknown magic just was an add on. He himself had been trying to break that very curse for years. 

Quirrell was a decent teacher, most of the kids even liked him. But it was not a chance he was willing to take. His students' lives were too important, and he wouldn’t have them corrupted, well in the Slytherins case worse than whatever they were getting at home. 

Albus plays with the cover of Witch Weekly, around him are trinkets and news article clipping as well as one very important letter that he has managed to intercept. It seemed like Severus was writing in some sort of code. One that he had no knowledge of. It was yet another puzzle that has fallen in his lap. But luckily he does not need to know the message's contents to know who it is intended for. 

Sirius Black and Severus are in contact. Dumbledore sweeps a hand over the pictures that he has on his desk as Fawks lets out a short high song note. 

“Yes, dear friend.” He shakes his head. “Things are not well in the world are they.” 

The phoenix’s feathers are falling out as it is shedding in preparation for rebirth. And so is Albus, he is preparing for the rebirth of the light side. Out of the ash, and shadow of an evil man, there would be a foster of new hope. Evil would be vanquished again. Even if it took a little bit of convincing to achieve. 

He would need to talk to Servus to find out where his true loyalties lay. His plan was ready to be set into motion. Voldemort wouldn’t know what hit him. 

~/*\~

Harry got a chill as he made his way towards the basement, there was the trace of magic in the air. Dark Magic that he had not felt in a long time. Harry pried the door open to find Tom very engrossed in reading over the directions in one of the older books, books that were on Harry’s untranslatable shelf, and thus had deemed very dangerous.

“Tom.” He folded his arms, tightly. “What are you doing with these things.” 

Tom’s brown eyes lock with his, and his hand that is gripping one of the many pre-prepared potion ingredients almost slips. 

“Harry... I wasn’t expecting you.” He straightens up as if his hand has not been caught in the potion stores, and the worst of the worst books is not in his possession. 

“Yes, well you should have, the way that Dark Magic is sweeping through the house, new and much like the stuff that used to be keeping your soul in objects.” Harry glares and tries to keep his voice steady. “Why are you messing with this stuff again?”

Tom’s grip tightens against the back leather bindings, to the old book as he puts down the dried leaves of something that Harry does not recognize. 

“Tom.” Harry tightens his own hold on his arms, not willing to look away. “Explain to me.” 

He knows that Tom wouldn’t betray him, but he could betray himself. Tom could hurt himself in seeking betterment of his own goals, and his need to have an edge. 

“It's a strengthening ritual. You were not supposed to find out about it.” Tom mutters to himself more than Harry about better planning and trying to keep tabs on what he has brewing. 

“Why would you risk damaging what little of a core you have left?” Harry steps forward reaching out for his hand and Tom takes one step back so that he is slightly out of reach. 

“It's not dangerous. I have done it before. I know what I am doing.” Tom keeps a level voice, but Harry can tell that he is going on the defensive. 

He readies himself for excuses as he pauses to take a calming breath. He had a feeling that Tom wants him to fight him, enough to tell him to do what he fucking wants and storm off. Not his best attempt to scare him off, because if there was anything to be learned by now, it was that Harry was stubborn enough to defy Death himself on multiple occasions. 

“Yes, and the last time probably poisoned your core as well.” Harry also keeps the same tone. “You need to heal it, not try and go about it the easy way.”

“This is the easy way?” Tom gestures around the room with a sneer. “I had to reteach myself the potion, and the ritual that went along with it. I need them.” 

“You already are strong.” Harry takes another step to breach the gap between them. “You don’t need to be any more than what you naturally are. You will have a stronger core when whole than even Albus himself. Don’t do something that will ruin your chances, in a need to get that power boost sooner.” 

He searches him with his eyes, again holding his hand out there for the other to take. 

“I have been practicing with Black.” Tom eyes the hand but does not take it. The book has been closed and he is now looking hard at the cover of it. “I am not getting any better, I have near all the shards now mended. There are only 3 small ones left.” 

He is trembling with rage, Harry knows that it's not fear that causes it. It is desperation and the need to rise again, the need to feel secure, and that he is still great. 

“When did you mend them?” Harry doesn't make another move towards him. The cauldron's smoke turns a puff of red and Tom watches it with weary eyes. However, he does not make a move towards it. He is locked in a battle of wills with Harry. 

“Before we took Loki to the Vet.” Tom snips. “When I started to question if I could live like this, where there seems to be love, and a family to be had.”

“And what decision did you reach?” Harry doesn’t know why his heart is suddenly beating faster. 

Tom is silent. 

“What decision did you reach,” Harry repeats a little more forcefully.

“That I have to kill Dumbledore.” Tom spits out the word with as much hatred as he can. “I have to kill him so that I can keep what I have. As long as he suspects me, you, Sirius, even the fucking cats. Then he won’t leave us alone. No restraining order would matter and there is not a place that we could hide he wouldn’t eventually try and dig out.”

Tom would rather die Harry knows than hide, but it almost sounds like he has considered it. Considered forgetting about his career and holding up somewhere until he can properly fight the threat that is upon them. He sounds so angry at himself, so bitter that he is not as powerful as he was. Harry doesn’t want to think that Tom’s core will never be what it was. He doesn’t want to believe it. But even if it is the case, there is no reason that he should put himself in a predicament that he would be worse off than he was before. 

“Tom, not even Death can not take me, you know this.” Harry tries to reason. And that burns his very soul, it makes his heart swell, for he is telling the truth and nothing but it. 

“There are things worse than death!” Tom throws the book as the potion boils over and his work is ruined. “He could turn you against me, he could obliviate you, he could steal your precious Hallows and end your rain as the Master of Death. That does not even cover what he could do to me to get to you.”

They still have their souls entangled, and as long as they were, they would be together. The Tom that he has now with him, might though not be the same and that to Harry is suddenly a very dark and unwelcome thought. Death could separate them again. And Harry would have to be born again to try and start this over again. But he has no way of knowing that he could do it right again, that this Tom that he has right now would ever be able to exist again.

“You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Harry grabs him then pulls him into the biggest and tightest hug that he can manage. He has never hugged another person this tightly to himself before, and he can feel Tom’s heartbeat and his breathing. He can feel the way that he stills and stiffens in the hold that is on him. 

“I won’t leave you,” Harry tells him softly. 

He feels a very crushing pressure around him as Tom is now hugging back. It's almost painful the way that he does it too. Unsure, and in need to know that the one thing that he cares for is not going anywhere despite his dark attempt. 

“You can be horrible, stupid, bloodthirsty, and a Dark Lord, and I still won’t leave you.” Harry continues. “Because I know that you won’t leave me either. We both have fears. I fear someone will find out and try to destroy your remaining soul fragments. But we can't live like that, and you can’t live the way that you lived before. ” 

Tom's head is on his now. His breathing is deep and the hold has not loosened. “I would damage what little of me that is there if it means that I can keep you.” 

It's as good as I love you. Harry is sure, as that is the most selfless thing that Tom has ever said and Harry knows that he completely means it. Even though it feels amazing, and his heart is aching with that feeling of true happiness that one that never experiences it often knows. The joy that comes and hits so fast and hard that one can only hold onto it, in case the source of it. Harry knows that he has fallen for someone that he should not have. He has fallen for someone that is trying to become redeemed. That perhaps can never truly become it. And he feels strong enough to push through that doubt that clouds his head often. That self-hatred that tells him that he can never be this happy. That he does not deserve it. There is that horrible prickle in his scar, of foreboding, that horrible feeling that they are indeed doomed as he feels the very soft lips brush the top of his head by that mark that has tied them. And he decides to pull the other down to his level for a real kiss. 

~/*\~

It's a kiss. 

His mind goes blank for a complete second. 

It’s a kiss. 

Yes of course it is one. He has had many before, used them as a way to make a person listen to him, and or cut off a conversation he had not wanted to have. He has kissed for many reasons and had others do the same. He had played a role, or a part before to make it successful.

But this one is unprompted, unpredicted, and not unwelcome. 

And it's Harry that has done this…

Defying expectations as usual. 

Hotwired to be his opposite in all ways but wit.

Tom doesn’t like being touched, but Harry, his hands are small and soft. He is short enough that he has to yank him down to his level, and it's a move that is so harsh and rash that it fits him. The kiss was just as forceful, rough, unpracticed as Harry was with most things that were not magic related. He is taken by this a little because none had ever dared to try such a forceful move on him before. But it's hard to resist temptation and he presses it, making sure that it lasts longer than Harry might have wanted it to. Because it's burning, fire, and he wants it to continue. He wants the wondrous feeling in his chest to stay. It's all that he craves, all that he wants, enough to want to kill to protect and to claim as his right. Yes, Harry brings out a very deep hidden almost primal part of him. He wants to simultaneously protect the person that’s fingers are digging into his cloak and to dominate and control him. He wants him to realize that none can kiss him like he can, none can hold him like Tom can, and that he should be the one that was held the closest to Harry’s heart. It's become important that is is almost instinctual to seek the other for these warm feelings to occur. 

He draws back, and Harry is left warm in the face breathless, and he is as well.

It makes the fact that there is someone coming after them even more of a damning thought, more of something that he has to figure out how to save them from. He knows that Harry will argue about him saving him, him trying to protect him. He would argue that he is able to take care of himself and that he will help, perhaps that they had to do it together. But Tom knows that he is the reason that Dumbledore has an interest. He knows he is the reason that Harry’s life had been horrible. And so he owes him that at the very least. He meets those green eyes that are like a Killing Curse, the one that rebound and hit him all those years ago. The one that killed him because as he is looking into those eyes he knows that the old parts of him have died. He has a weakness now. He has emotions, he has an attachment. It’s his first true one and the only one that he will not sacrifice. 

‘Mine’ The childish part of him thinks and he is far too enamored to argue with it. 

~/*\~

Severus Snape finishes teaching for the day, it is to be a three day weekend for the upcoming Holidays. In his own personal opinion in the first few weeks of school students did not need a holiday, but he finds that he does have a lot to grade and he is quite tired for some reason after his meal in the great hall. 

He debates taking a pepper up potion before making his way up to the headmaster’s office for his weekly visit but ultimately decides against it as he will just head to bed early after making his much-needed rounds. Slytherins were very good about trying to break those rules, without getting caught and they typically did it in a better fashion than the other houses. He would take points off the ones that were dumb enough to make errors in their excuses, and alibies. 

Albus sits at his desk, there is the smell of a tea that has been freshly made. The room feels a little warm, almost too warm for his own liking. He manages a good evening before taking his usual spot at the desk. His head feels a bit foggier, the more that he thinks about it, the more his thoughts slow. 

“I am sorry dear Severus I hoped that I would never have to resort to anything like this, but I needed your shields a bit lower.” 

“You drugged me.” Severus just manages to hiss out the stupid reply, as he can feel his muscles loosening and relaxing when they would be couched with anger. It had to be at dinner and the smell of whatever herb was being used in the tea triggered it. He feels stupid as he slumps against the back of the chair and then crashes to the floor with attempted more movement. 

He had known that Albus was descending to madness when he had dismissed Quirrell in favor of a man named Lockheart, but this was not something that he had seen coming. 

He was one of the staff… 

They knew that he had these meetings with Albus…

He couldn't possibly get away with this...

His vision has become quite blurred. 

He needed his wand…

He can not sleep now...

His fight leaves him as his fingers brush against the pocket that holds his wand before he can try and cast his Patronus. The world goes dark as the last thing he sees is Albus standing over him and hears Flawk's loud cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank you again so much for all the love, some of you guys made me cry. 
> 
> ಥ_ಥ You guys are amazing! 
> 
> See you all soon for Birthdays and Death Days


	17. Birthdays and Death Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry share another dream and talk about the future. Severus deals with the fact that Albus defiantly tried to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya friendsヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ

_It’s warm, the type of warm that feels like it might blister skin. There is no good way to hide from it, not even in the shade under a tall tree. The oak’s branches scratch and the bright green leaves, flap in the wind. There are children playing off in the distance, screaming as they run around in circles. He watches them as they pass by with something almost fond and longing that he can not place. Perhaps it is the innocence of them, and the way that to them there is nothing wrong with the world. Where their worst worry was when they would have to take a nap, or when their parents would be coming to pick them up. The world is simple when someone was young, though he had never really had a childhood._

_Harry sits on the bench and feels the shift in wait as Tom sits. They are older perhaps in their 30’s or what Harry imagined he would have looked like had he not been murdered at 18._

_“Your dream or mine?” Tom asks pleasantly, looking out at the fields that are around them, and the playground equipment that seems farther away now, but was still teaming with life._

_“I don’t know, perhaps it's both of ours.” Harry shrugs. “I recognize the park but not the fields around it.”_

_Tom frowns a little as if thinking about it. “I do recognize the field, it was on our trip to the sea.”_

_“The place you hid the locket, right?” Harry looks off towards where there might be water. The children that are playing do appear to come in very different clothing, some more Harry’s era, and some more Tom’s. He feels fortunate that he had not had to go through what he had witnessed in his first life to get it._

_Tom nods once not speaking for a little as if the mere thought of the place bothers him. The dream changes only slightly to reflect it as the sky becomes clouded as if rain is once again threatening. “It's not a good memory, but it is where I felt the most powerful. I had finally gotten some control over my magic.”_

_Harry can feel the shift in the breeze, and he moves closer to that he is there for him. He has never liked the cold. It reminds him too much of spending Christmas alone year after year before Hogwarts and during his last year alive visiting his parents' graves._

_“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks as he would prefer not to get rained on by Tom’s downward spiral of a mood._

_“Are you, my therapist, now?” Tom raised an eyebrow and the clouds didn't go away but did lighten just slightly into something that is less gray. Perhaps they were really in Tom’s dream and it wasn’t something mutual his emotions were affecting the atmosphere more so than Harry’s own._

_“I don’t think so, I just know that sometimes it helps.” Harry leans back against the bench so that he can look at the clearer sky. “I mean I have been pretty open with Death and it has worked out rather well.”_

_“It's probably because he would encourage whatever foolishness that popped into your head. I am convinced that he had a hand in convincing you to bring me back.” Tom says knowingly. “I have seen notes that were not just yours in your books.”_

_He looks at Harry with something akin to fondness, it makes it from the way that his lips curve just a little upward, all the way to his eyes._

_“He played a part in it, though at the time I had just died and was looking for direction. It seemed like the only way, to get a peaceful life and death.” Harry’s eyes drift to the bench. “I second-guessed it, throughout the collecting of the shards. I wondered what I would do when I was free. What I would do when I had no need to babysit a Dark Lord and he had done his part in taking the Horcrux that was placed in me. One that I never wanted and caused me so much pain.”_

_“Do you still wonder?” Tom’s voice draws him to look at him again._

_“I do, but I don’t want you just to get up and leave. I have known that for a while.” Harry smiles weakly. “I like simplicity and I have found that with you currently. Even if things do not go the way that I wish for them too.”_

_“You're waiting for it to go wrong too.” Tom understands. “I have wondered that myself.”_

_“Aren’t we messed up.” Harry shakes his head. “Nothing good ever seems to last for either of us.”_

_And perhaps that is the understatement of the century. Their lives are filled with enough horrors to write novels. Each of them having their own great disappointments that lead them down two very different roads that eventually brought them together. The fates really did hate them. The mass murdering former Dark Lord that the world had created through the terror inflicted on him at Wools and Harry Potter, the supposed savior that played the divine to get him back. The savior that was constantly put down and abused at home that it had led to him being the perfect sacrificial lamb and unquestioning in his role to save the world._

_“What happens if it ends?” Tom looks off to the playground, his hair blows slightly in the breeze._

_Harry has wondered that for a while now. What happened if they no longer wished to be together. That goals and ambitions vs morals and dreams turned them against one another? He doesn’t know if he has it in him to kill Tom, not anymore. They are just two very messed up people at this point._

_“I don’t know, but if we think that it will end, if we're preparing for it. Maybe it's best not to think that it ever will, that we can make it work.”_

_Tom laughs at that, it's a soft short one. “So we are together forever? You know that I wish to live forever.”_

_“I do.” Harry sighs. “I don’t know why.”_

_He thinks that it would get old eventually._

_“Because there is so much to do, there is so much to see, and learn.” Tom looks at him like he is crazy. “It's not possible to do it all with one lifetime. It's not possible to build something that will last past one in such a short amount of time, for me to rise to power took nearly 60 years, all the Dark Arts practice, and the rituals. It wouldn’t have been worth anything to fall after that.”_

_“You died younger than most Wizards for it though.” Harry leans into him. “Don’t try any of those rituals again.” He adds for good measure as Tom is sane now, he has decent magic, and he will live just fine with the body that Harry has made him as long as he doesn't go messing with it all._

_“Yes, I did. This time it will be very different. I will not have the setbacks or cripple myself.” Tom leans into him as well in agreement._

_“Living I suppose is something that I always wanted, but never really planned anything out very far.” Harry feels like Tom doesn't understand quite how Harry’s past life has shaped him. “I know that sounds stupid, but I was always trying to enjoy the now for their might not have been a tomorrow.”_

_Tom takes a very deep audible breath, Harry can feel the way that the air moves through him, even if it is just a Dream. “You will be with me, I will make you understand the need to stay around longer.”_

_Yes it's very possessive the way that he is holding onto him, quite like a child that is telling him that he is his and that he will not let him go. At the same time, it is very comforting. Tom wants him around for that forever, for better or worse. Harry is very used to people leaving him. It's deep-rooted with the parts of him that he still doesn’t like. But yet he wants to believe that there is a possible forever, or at least as long as he wanted to be part of it._

_“I don’t have plans on going anytime soon.” Harry searches for the words. “But eventually, I think I would like to rest. Not until I have done the things that I think are worth doing mind you, but eventually.”_

_“And what is worth doing for you?” Tom seems genuinely curious._

_“I want to see the world, I think, travel much like you did. Not necessary to learn forbidden secrets but to learn the cultures and see what is left of nature. Magic and living things are tired well together and it would be nice to go to places that are naturally rich with it. I have also wanted a family for the longest time. I thought about settling down and raising kids a few times.”_

_Tom stiffens a little at that. Harry pulls away but only a little bit. He still has a grip on Tom’s arm._

_“I want to adopt them before you freak out.” Harry feels the other relax a little. “We both grew up orphans in terrible places. I would like to make sure that any child that needs a home, has one. A good one, where they would be loved, and never have to question what they are worth.”_

_He means that with all that he is._

_“This hypothetical child would be living with the both of us...” Tom pauses. “What if they were not magical?” he says finally, “What if you pick one, and they can’t do magic?”_

_“I will love them no matter what.” Harry repeats himself steadily. “They will be welcome to learn the things that I know don’t require a core to do, more generalized Witch Craft if they wish and we won’t treat them any different.”_

_Tom is silent._

_Perhaps he still doesn’t think that he is capable of the L word._

_“You won’t, I know that they will love you, and even if there are ways that they disappoint you that once you love them that you won’t want to let them go either.”_

_It would be like with the cats. Tom would just have to let his guard down enough to realize he cares about them and once he does Harry pitys any that would have gotten between them or dared to touch what he considered to be his._

_“We have no experience with children.” Tom mutters into his hair, not denying or confirming if he would. “For all that you know we could screw them up far worse than wherever they were.”_

_“I don’t think you mean that.” Harry says swiftly. “But if anything we get a trial run with the kittens.”_

_“Right because kittens are even remotely comparable to a human child.” Tom rolls his eyes._

_“They are probably easier.” Harry agrees. “But same principles, right?_

_“Yes of course all they need is food, water, shelter, clothes, and affection. Right?” Tom huffs._

_Harry smiled. “I happen to think that I would make a very great parent someday.”_

_“Yes you would teach them to waltz right into danger, and befriend things that are possibly dangerous and or deadly.” Tom chuckles._

_“I think you're making fun of me.” Harry looks up at him._

_“I would never.” Tom says almost innocently._

_They lapse back into silence. The wind blows against the trees, and even in the dream, there is a carefree and calmness that has fallen upon the both of them. It is one of the better dreams that Harry has had. He eventually settles for laying halfway against Tom and along the bench._

_“Do you always think we’re going to dream together like this when we fall asleep together?” He asks softly, not wanting to break the stillness of it all._

_“As long as there is a soul shard and we are close together.” Tom affirms what Harry has feelings of._

_“If it keeps happening I have to wonder if I will pull you into one of my nightmares.” Harry sighs because it would be his luck that he would be dreaming about the chamber of secrets or the graveyard and Tom happened to be forced to watch over some of Harry’s darker memories. Though he can separate his Tom from Voldemort very easily now, or at least the one that he has known. He knows there are still things that he doesn't like that the other has done in this timeline._

_“You are still having them often then?” Tom’s eyes soften just a little, hardly noticeable. But Harry can see the way the thought of what he has done is starting to impact him, if only for the things that have directly affected Harry. Remorse was a little easier when one could see what it has done to someone they care for. It is not as easy to put it to a face that didn’t matter beforehand._

_“Off and on usually depends on how I feel about something in particular. Guilt or worry usually brings on the worst ones.” Harry tells him honestly. Guilt was so often a companion to him, even though he was trying very hard to push against it._

_Tom has a grim face at that. “I’ll remind you that they are just dreams.”_

_He is not saying that he is going to save him, Harry knows that, but he knows that he would try. Probably by fighting his nightmarish version of himself._

_Harry nods, feeling himself relax into the other further, trusting a bit more of his weight. “I trust that you will.”_

_“It sometimes amazes me that you do... Trust me I mean.” Tom’s fingers that have been resting against Harry’s shoulder slip from their place._

_“Are you implying I shouldn’t.”_

_“I wouldn’t trust me.” Tom says bitterly._

_“Yes but you are you and I am me.” Harry says wistfully._

_“It’s just hard to accept considering what I have done to you, that you offer forgiveness and such so readily.” Tom turns his head to the side as not to look at him. “I think that makes you foolish, but it also forces me to respect you.”_

_“Do you trust me?” Harry asks him seriously._

_There is a very potent pause. “Yes, as much as I am able, which is more than any person a have been in contact with.”_

_Which says a lot all things considered. Tom is not one to trust and neither is Harry, not with the way that he has been burned before._

_“I killed you and the shards individually. We’re even enough.” Harry confirms it for him. “We both have done harsh things to the other.”_

_“I initiated it though.” Tom takes the blame easily for that one, he won't even try to share it as there was no good way to. Harry’s parents had been his enemies for very good reasons._

_But there is more to it, after all, there were two sides to it. He can in a twisted way see why Tom has done some of the things that he had done._

_“And I played into Dumbledore’s hands, yes I was too young to know but there was perhaps a chance to have saved you then as well. I watched the soul shard dying at the crossroads.” It is still something that disturbed him. How those decisions had foraged Tom Riddle and how a pathetic shriveled thing had been clinging to life near him. It was gut-wrenching then and it was currently. It had been a waste of life…_

_“Probably not though.” Tom disagrees._

_And Harry can not help but feel that deeply because of course, he was only 18 hardly an adult, how was he supposed to have fixed Tom then before he knew all that he did._

_“No you were quite mad.” Harry says regretfully. “It does not mean that I wish I had not tied.”_

_“You are even more foolish than I thought you were before.” Tom rubs at his face. “But in the end, I suppose that you got your wish. You did save me.”_

_“You helped to save yourself.” Harry corrected. “I just gave you the choice to.”_

_“Are you always like this… “ Tom just gestures._

_“I mean you have been living with me for 3 years so you tell me.” Harry grabs the hand that has been gesturing using it to pull himself from his laying down position._

_“Yes, I think you are.” Tom sighs deeply. “You're just extra like this tonight.”_

_He starts to play with his ring, Harry watches it as it moves. He knows that Tom would often play with it. He can feel the artifact even in this dream of theirs._

_“I am going to tell you something that I was going to wait for your birthday to.” Harry decides. “I had a book with old Wizard folklore and Myths that are actually true, because Death told me so to go with it. But I just feel like this is something that might not be best to keep to myself. Considering all that's happening and since we're being honest with each other.”_

~/*\~ 

_Tom’s eyes darken, the brown deepening with his growing concern of what Harry is going to tell him. “Why do I feel like this is being told to me for a particularly bad reason.”_

_“It might help settle one of your fears but also is a caution for another.” Harry sounds almost remorseful for dropping this onto him. “There are 3 Deathly Hallows as you know there is the stone, wand, and cloak. We have used the invisibility cloak often enough. It is from Death’s magic woven to prevent most notice. The stone was made in a more complex fashion. There is no way to bring back the dead fully if they have past Purgatory. The stone takes the memories of a person and those that have passed and creates a version of how a person would have acted in life based on the situation. It has driven most to madness. It also so happens to have been passed down the Gaunt line like my Hollow was passed down through the Potters.”_

_“The stone is small, isn’t it.” Tom is already putting it together, his fingers no longer brushing against the Ring that he wore._

_“Yes and embedded into the very ring that you turned into a Horcrux. It is one of the reasons that Death wasn’t fond of you at first mind you, other than the shards were giving him a headache when he passed through purgatory.” Harry tries to make light of it. “I trust you with one of them, as long as no one reunites the 3, I will still be the Master of Death.”_

_And as long as he has a soul fragment in Harry, there is no way for him to be fully removed from this mortal plane. Tom knows this. “And the Wand?”_

_Harry pauses. “I don’t currently have the wand. It is not unbeatable, but it does amplify a person's core greatly, and help them perform magic that hasn’t been seen before. It's a weapon through and through. That wand is currently being held by one that the world thinks is the greatest Wizard of our Era.”_

_“Dumbledore…” Tom finishes for him. Yes, that sets him definitely on edge. The sky warps to reflect it, as he can not help but understand why he had no chance of beating the other. The way that he killed the other could not involve a dual it was more clear than ever._

_“Tom.” Harry shields them both from the rain that has started to fall. “He won’t win, I am just saying that we need to be cautious. There are other ways to defeat him, we already have had a smear campaign going. His reputation is not the greatest and it will only further devolve as you prove not to be running a terrorist organization.”_

_“I don’t want to just cause him to look foolish and dissolve out of relevance Harry, I want him dead.” Tom knows that he will never feel safe as long as the other breathed, nor would he not be looking over his shoulder for the both of them._

_“I know and I have a great dislike for him.” Harry tells him in earnestly. “But I don’t want to sink to murder to get him to back off.”_

_“Of course you wouldn’t.” Tom sneers. “Why should our safety matter.”_

_“There are other ways to protect one’s self from others without resorting to murder.” Harry said plainly._

_“Yes but they are not as effective.” Tom smirks because people with the exception of Harry stayed dead if one was to kill them._

_“I don’t know why I am trying to argue this with you in a dream Harry just sighs._

~/*\~

The ceiling is white, it had small patches where the paint was chipped and was peeling. There is a slight bit of rust that has formed around the metal that he can see out of the corner of his eye. His vision is blurred and he can hardly think how bad his head hurt. His body doesn’t respond right away to his attempts to move it. It just aches. He lets out a very deep breath as he attempts to sit up, the movement discourages him further and he feels himself nearly falling out of bed with it.

“Please don’t move.” Poppy’s voice seems to echo. 

Even in his very inhibited state, Severus knows the sound of her voice. It sounds so very loud even though he knows well that her voice is far from that. He feels inclined to listen to her as it has to be the most splitting headache that he has ever felt in his life. It is worse than the times that he had the Dark Lord trample through it to make sure that he wasn’t lying to him. 

She gently leans him back against the pillows. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Poppy, I know what my bloody name is.” Severus hisses out, feeling though that his voice is slightly slurred with it. Which he knows is not a good sign by any means. 

“I was just checking Severus you had quite the tumble.” 

“Tumble…?” His head screams at him, as he tries to recall falling. It feels as if his head is being forced apart as he tried to even recall anything that would have happened on Friday. His guts are twisting and he can only give the reason for that to be nausea brought on by such pain and dizziness. 

“Oh yes, down a whole flight of steps on your way back from your meeting with Albus. He sent me an owl that you didn’t look so well during your meeting and that he had ordered you to see me after you claimed that you were fine. He was asking about your condition, but at the time I had not yet seen you. A student found you, with quite the bloody pool about your head.”

Severus reached up slowly to touch his head, and he could feel the bandage that was in place there.

“I did my best dear to patch you up.” She says pleasantly, but there is a bit of pain in her voice for having to see him in such a state.

“How long was I out?”

“It is Monday.” Poppy replies softly and if he really narrows his eyes and squints them he can see her face. “We called someone in to take over if needed for your classes. If you had not woken by Tuesday I was going to transfer your care to St. Mungos.”

So he really had hurt himself… but he doesn’t know how he would have lost his footing. The pain from pressing himself to remember nearly makes him pass out.

“Severus take this and rest.” Poppy hands him something and because he is in so much pain he doesn't question it. 

In the coming days, that turns into a week. Severus can not recall the incident that led him to have to take a week off from teaching. He hated having to hand over his classroom to the headmaster for the week. But at least he had kept them on his intended curriculum. Draco had some choice words to say about the way that Gryffindor to have been favored, in a class that usually they were, but Severus thought that perhaps some humility would do Draco some good. Not everyone had his skill for potions, but the boy hardly needed as much praise as Severus tended to send his way; he only did so because no other courses gave as many points to Slytherin as they did the others. Someone had to make up the difference. Probably was a bit refreshing for some others to be called on. Granger probably was praying that he wouldn’t return. 

The nausea had ended shortly after he had awoken, but there were prolonged issues with thinking clearly and concentrating. He had been sensitive to the light changes throughout the castle and had felt tired with little energy… well more so than usual. He had a very ugly scar on the back of his head from where his skull had crunched on the stone steps. The way that it was described to him, he was lucky to be alive at all. He had suffered a severe brain injury. Poppy was still monitoring his condition even though it was improving, slowly. She was quite the nuisance now, but at the start of everything he would admit that he was in dire need of her assistance. Brain injuries were something that magic could only do so much for, and the hole that was in his memory of the event would just not sit right for him. 

There was a searing pain whenever he tried to remember the event. Even with less headaches coming from the days after, fewer issues with concentration on other things. Severus still is unnerved with the fact that he has such a gap in his memory. It didn’t help his nerves that the Headmaster had Truth Serum in his possession and was in the midst of calling in favors and those that were once in the Order. There were a few people that were deliberating in returning to the call. Regardless of promises or evidence that Albus had accumulated, he doubted that Black or the Wolf would rejoin. The Weasleys were considering doing so, as well as Tonks, and Figgs. Severus would have to be a part of it for appearances and he knew that Dumbledore’s yes man Hagrid would do anything to help the boy that he had dropped off at the Muggle’s home. The half-giant still blamed himself a little for that still. Snape knew that he still cried over it from time to time.

He watched the Headmaster weary, from his place at the staff meeting, as he was keeping close tabs on him. It was impossible to tell for sure that Albus had been responsible for his near-death experience, there had not been any evidence to currently to support the idea that he would do such a thing, not with the way that he had use for Severus still, and he would be down a staff member nearing the first quarter of the year. It would have been suspicious as hell to murder him, and he had followed all the orders up until this point. However the need to check in on his health, the seeming apology, and particularly his memory is fuzzy after dinner that evening, Severus just can't help but conclude that the other had a hand in trying to kill him and he had somehow survived it. 

The question now really was if he should stay for a second attempt, or if he should run. He had sworn his loyalty, but he had never dictated how long that would be. He had a loophole that he could exploit to leave. But the thought of leaving his Slytherins anywhere near the mad man was even more unsettling than the way that Albus was looking at concern at him as he rubbed at his head. 

“Severus perhaps you should rest.” Albus looks over his spectacles at him. 

He pretends to seem bothered by that. “I am fine, just a slight headache.” 

“All the more reason.” Mcgunigal nods her head in favor of Albus’s ruling. 

“I want notes and not just cliff notes about what happens in my absence.” Severus makes himself sound angry about the possibility of not knowing what was discussed.

“Of course.” Dumbledore smiles at him. “I will write you the notes myself.”

He nodded his head once. “That will service.” 

He takes off from the meeting knowing that it would last about an hour longer, now that he was not there to keep the rambling to a minimum. He slips past the wards that are in place in Albus’s office, revisiting the scene of the crime. He has done this before, and he knows that Albus has not been aware. He finds nothing of importance other than a few letters that are for the Order’s recruitment. He duplicates only one and slips back to his personal storage cabinets to see if any of the ingredients are missing. While Poppy had said she detected no spells on him at the time that could have caused him to fall, there is a possibility that he was affected by something else that was in his system, something that wouldn’t show up in the typical diagnostic checks. 

Yes, when he looks through his ingredients turns over the logs. He can tell that there are some rather simple things missing, nothing in large amounts, nothing that he would have noticed if he was not taking a hard look at it. The things that were missing were those that inhibited the senses, not placing someone to sleep, just out of it. He had seen a few Death Eaters in their time as students make such potions to be triggered by certain drinks or smells as a way to drug someone to sleep with them. Sickening as the thought is, someone could make it with rather cheap and easy to obtain ingredients from the potion stores. Anyone could have broken into his stores to steal, but with the charms that he has in place, it is unlikely that it could be anyone but staff. And he has a very good idea of who did it. He knows that someone like the headmaster would not need it for the same reason as a Death Eater. No, but he had indeed drugged him with something that was nonfatal and it would have been easy to toss him down the stairs that way, or truly cause him to lose his footing.

There are also a few ingredients that he can not place with how his head is pounding that are missing as well but he has little time to worry about that, they were not needed to make any more of what he had been poisoned with. It was just Boomslang skin, after all. 

Now that he has the information he doesn’t exactly know what to do with it. His head gives a throb of warning as he is trying to focus too hard, and he only has about 20 more minutes of unmonitored time left to make a decision. He knows that he should stay, making it seem even remotely like he knows what Albus has tried to do will place himself into more danger than he currently is in. It does prove something very unsettling though. It proves that Albus was at the point of possible murder of decently loyal enough assets. It proves that Albus is slipping not only mentally but morally as well. And if that was not worrisome for the two people that he was interested in he did not know what was. Marvolo and Harry Potter were in serious danger, and he had to warn them, at the very least. He went to his quarters and forced himself to ink out a letter. He then sent his bird with the attachment and instructed her to fly fast and high up as not to be noticed. 

~/*\~

Sirius sits down across from Remus at a small apartment that the man is renting. It is that time of the month and he has yet to convince his friend that it would be alright for him to let him buy the wolfsbane potions. Remus has never liked being a burden as he called it on anyone. He doesn’t want Sirius to be spending money on him, or worried about his current health. It is all very annoying, but there is another reason he is there.

He had heard from Remus that the Order is trying to come back together, as there has been some activity on the Death Eater side. They are waiting for orders and a few in the ranks thought that it might be a good idea to take some initiative to show their master that they are still loyal to the cause and wish to join back with them. Severus had told him a different story. He had told him that there was nothing brewing and that Dumbledore was paranoid and indeed losing his mind.

It was very worrisome the more and more that Severus writes to him. It is almost like the other is desperate to tell one other person, one other person that would believe him that something was not right. And even though he had not believed Severus at first about what he had said at the Malfoy ball to Remus. Sirius does think that the man is being completely honest about this. 

“It's worrisome.” Remus relents. “When the side that is supposed to be the light side is conspiring to forcibly reveal a child that might not even be a Dark Lord as one. They by their actions alone could push Marvolo to become one.” 

Sirius doesn’t think a truer statement has ever been said. “All it would take is pressure in the right place. He has a lot of anger, sadness, and regret. Remus. I can't even describe how amazing he is at dueling when he is older and his core is more developed I can not even begin to imagine what he would be capable of.” 

“What do you think would cause him to turn,” Remus asks honestly and he is not asking it because he would tell another soul about this conversation. He is asking it as if he is preparing for the worst-case scenario and himself for trying to protect those that mattered to him when or if it happened.

“If anything was to happen to Harry.” Sirius says seriously, “I think he would make the world bleed for it. There is little that Tom cares for, life hasn’t given him a reason to. People have done nothing to help him, and others have been responsible for the worst things imaginable happening to him. Harry is all that he has hope in, and keeps him hopeful that the world is not as dark as he thinks it is.”

“Then we should make sure that keeping Harry out of trouble is our highest priority.” Remus bows his head. “If he is going to be powerful as you say then he needs that positive influence to help and guide him. How screwed are we Padfoot?” 

Sirius laughs bitterly, “Harry is more prone to trouble than James was, not that he asks for it, it just seems to find him.”

Remus takes a sip of his tea. “We might need something stronger than tea to help us come up with a plan then.” 

~/*\~

Tom has gone to the Ministry to register them for early testing. Harry would have gone if it were not for the fact that he hated the Ministry and having both of them there was just too much of a magnet for attention. It was rather annoying that people need to practically stalk them in the Wizarding world. With that in mind, Tom and Harry sometimes would take turns running errands that Kreacher could not do for them. Harry had done the last one, which was stealing more paperwork to prove they were overachievers and completed more tests than they actually had. So it was Tom’s turn to do something and convince the Magical Department of Education that it should allow them to take NEWTs sooner than the early testing date, and on a day without other students present as they could be distractions. It is the perfect job really for someone as charming as Tom, and something that Harry might have hindered more than helped as now that they are closer and in more of a gray area with their relationship Harry finds that he does, in fact, hate when Tom charms others, probably because of the way they look at him. It's a little petty of him, but he is used to the person he likes choosing someone over him, and its a very irrational fear that someone could charm Tom back enough that he would respond in turn with anything but a selfish motive. But it is still there, and it can be very unnerving to watch the lengths that Tom was willing to sink to, to get what he wanted. Nothing Sexual had ever been done, but Harry is still not over the way the other can flirt with others so perfectly that it seems like he means it. 

He is flipping through the Tele with little on to watch. He is rather happy with his achievement of setting the thing up though. He had watched a few classic movies on it, and Tom while liking films would nitpick them apart. It made him near impossible to watch anything with. He did have a liking for some of the movies that had come out in his own time, as he had slunk into theaters to see them. It was one of the things that Tom could appreciate Muggles for. At this point and time, Harry would take what he could get from the other in that regard. 

There was a harsh pecking on the window to his left. He recognizes the bird, it's a nearly all-black owl and it belongs to Severus. It had bitten him a few times when he had received information on when his private Occmancy lessons were. Unease fills him with the way that it seems to be panicked. 

He opens the window and it flops forward, squawking loudly. 

__________________________________

Albus knows of our correspondence, meet at the Railing like last time. Quickly I fear the worst with how unstable he is at the moment. 

~SS~  
__________________________________

He takes the note off and quickly scans the contents. It was Severus's writing. It was a cry for help, and a meeting as soon as possible. He has little choice in the matter, he would have to go in Sirius’s stead as he was no doubt by now riding out the full moon’s effects with his best friend and Tom perhaps was still networking as it was getting late. 

Still going alone is dangerous... 

Not that he hadn't done anything that was dangerous before, it was just that Tom and him had been in an agreement not to go poking the bear that was Dumbledore till the time was right. Tom still wanted to kill him, but Harry was all for life in prison should he do anything that was too unsavory like attacking them with more than words. 

Tom would scream at him for once to use his head, to wait, or not go at all as it could be a trap. But the more Gryffindor part of him is singing right over the top of it with his need to help save the person that had saved him on so many occasions in his past life, that ultimately died for him so that he could have a chance in defeating Voldemort. Severus had been in contact with Sirius, he had warned them a few times of Dumbledore's issues. Harry could trust him. Sirius was a good judge of character and Harry trusted his judgment. 

The bird nips his hand hard, demanding a reply and for him to save his master. 

Harry takes one very deep breath knowing what he has to do. “I’ll save him.” He tells the bird. 

“Expecto Patronum.” His stag bows to him as it exits his wand tip. “Tell Tom to return home, that it can not wait. I will be going ahead, and that the note on the kitchen table will explain all that he needs to know.” 

With that Harry pictures the area around his mother's old home very carefully, he has been told that Sirius was meeting at the Railing with an old friend a couple of times before and knew how to reach him there if there had ever been a need. He scribbles down the directions for Tom and apparates. 

Harry has no issue finding the place. It is on a quiet street where there are a few Muggles out and about. Severus is by the doorway and no sooner has Harry gotten close to him, he feels his arm snatched and the world twisting around him, with that horrible feeling that he has only felt 3 other times in his life before. Once for the world cup's Quidditch match and the other was when he had been taken against his will to and from the graveyard during the Triwizard Tournament. 

Words can not describe the feeling of horror and fight or flight that finds him the second that he crashes down hard upon the hardwood floor. He coughs as he breathes in stale and old air. He knows this place well. It had been the place that Severus had died, the place where he had met his Godfather, and the place that Remus had hidden in when he was younger the Shrieking Shack…

He is unable to question anything as he has to block a stunner spell that is aimed at his head, then another, and another. His shield cracks and bursts. The golden light fades like glistening shards of glass and Harry’s last tangible thought is that Tom is going to murder him if Severus doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more cliff hangers after this, I swear. Next chapter I will probably be where my Mature Tags come into play. It will not be a fun ride for a few characters involved. (Violence and such are ahead.) I will also post more specific warnings in that chapter's notes. 
> 
> See you all soon, and enjoy your weekend (if your reading this on the weekend that is, can't tell you what the future holds.) 
> 
> (￣▽￣;)


	18. An Interrogations Revelation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom tries desperately to find Harry, and Harry desperately clings to his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back! 
> 
> Just some Warnings before we get started here.
> 
> Warnings for mental torture and drugging a person and forcing them to talk, with all extensive purposes this could be considered mind rape. (this person is by other accounts is underage, as in the body of a child physically even if they are older mentally )

It’s dark and tight wherever he is. His eyes can not adjust to the lighting, no matter how he squints. He can’t move much with whatever full-body bind he is under, just his fingertips to the sides of him and a little and his feet. It had not taken much to overpower him. Not with how scattered his head had been lately. The Headmaster no doubt had made his excuses. He isn’t sure what the other plans for him, but he is at least not dead at the moment, just out of the way. 

He would have hit his head against the chair he is no doubt tied to if he were able to and his head was not as messed up as it was. He really can not think of anything that was worse than being stuck here, and knowing that Albus was acting on whatever plan that he had come up with. Severus had failed to note how fast the decline had been, how absorbed the other was by this madness that Voldemort was possessing, or was Marvolo Gaunt. Now they were in immediate danger as Albus by his actions of trying to include Sirius had no doubt expedited his plans. He needed to warn them, but it might already be too late… 

No, he could not think that. That would be an excuse to give up, and he can't give up. He had given up before, trusted in the very man that had him bound. He could not be responsible for Lily’s only child to die. He couldn’t be responsible for it all. Not all of their deaths...

He can feel the sins crawling up his back all of them aching, Sirius had helped him with some of them, but if he knew that it was Severus that had handed that prophecy off to the Dark Lord with a need to prove himself, he knew their reluctant partnership would have been over. He can never be forgiven for it, but helping to keep Harry safe had been the only thing that was worthwhile, besides protecting his students. 

He would rather that Albus finish the job then know that he is responsible yet again, for letting Lily down. 

‘Think.’ 

He tried to force his own mind, which had always been his best asset to do what he desperately needed it to do. The thing that it was struggling with as he was both slightly panicking, and still having issues with his own mind. 

‘Think!’ 

There was no apparition within the walls of Hogwarts. His wand was not on him, it was outside of this room or it was scattered somewhere in the darkness around him. He took in a deep breath, he could not move with the spell placed on him. But all spells had their own weaknesses. There had to be a counterspell to it. There was always a counterspell. He took another deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He wouldn’t fail Lily again. Never again... 

He just had to figure out what had been said or rather thought when it had been cast. If he could do that he could try and force his way out with his magic. It would be draining, it would be risky, but as he is silenced and nothing comes out of his mouth as he tries to will it to do so much as curse, he knows there are little options left. He first tries Emancipare, then Evadere. Both different spells for freeing one’s self but this was Albus and he had created spells of his own based on intent, and Latin terms and phrases. This is not something that he can easily escape from, no matter how he wishes it. He had to perhaps think of Latin rooted words that may be able to help him in this situation. Since the universal spells were failing him.

Slytherin save him, Godric Damn him, and Helina spare him. This was not something that he wanted to be doing. Experimenting and creating spells was risky. He knows perfectly well what happened to most that decided to mess with such things. If it went wrong then well there wouldn’t be much else to worry about he would probably end up no better than Lovegood. 

He lists out the possible words that relate to being set free, let go, and escape in his head. He fights through the headache and the slight throbbing that has started to form uncomfortably against his skull. 

Ottimo’s meaning was more lent to overlook someone or something and Tramitto was more of a turn over or a throw. He was certain that he did not want to be tossed with how he was bound to the ground or hurled into something in his chair. That left Dimittis that had the implication of drop and or let go as in release and escape. 

He took a deep breath, breaching himself the best he could. 

He hoped and prayed to whatever entity’s that were or the gods, fate, luck, herself that he would not end up a bloody mess on the floor as he took all the will that he had left, all the intent to help save the boys that were in danger, and promised on all the sins that he was responsible for that he was fine accepting his responsibility at any other day but not today when he had those that needed him. And he pressed the magic from his core, in one explosive move that sent him backward chair slamming into a wall and breaking, the bindings loosened and he could move limbs. He hardly registers the pain that comes with the wood biting into his exposed flesh.

He was not free yet, there was lingering stiffness, and still a little bit of a hold rooting him into place on the tile floor, pinning him into the remaining wooden shards. 

He repeated the made-up spell to himself again. ‘Dimittis.’ 

The last of him collapsed onto the floor and his muscles were able to flex and move. He took a deep breath, one after another, and slowly stood on shaking feet. He can feel the blood dripping down his arm. It's a gash that has to be decently deep. But it's nothing… he will live.

He feels along the space around him as it is still bathed in the darkness there is the sound of bottles breaking and he is forced to conclude that he is in his potions cabinet. He could not think of a more ironic place to put him. Of course, since it is his own personal storage room, this is no longer exactly an easy Alohomora type of situation to get out of it. 

Great…

~/*\~

Tom could sum up this evening in one simple word, tiresome. 

First, it was the amount of effort that it took to convince the right people that letting him take the test early would be in his and Harry’s absolute benefit carrier wise but also had to make it seem that they would help out with a few of the more charitable things that the Ministry wanted to do in exchange. He really hoped that Harry was ready to give a speech at the next Aura training Graduation because that was the only way to bribe their way in. Doing this had led to him having evening tea with the Minister. Fudge is far from a competent conversational partner. He’s smart enough to know when perhaps some people were having him but stupid enough to buy into his own perceived self-importance and greatness.

If there was one thing he hated even before he was a Dark Lord was an inflated ego that couldn’t be backed up. 

Yes, it was nothing but a headache, to listen to his claim to be boosting preparations should the Dark Lord return, and the defense. He would even personally get involved in said dense, that was sure to be anything but a defense as Voldemort was already in his office. Because yes, a bulging, bolding, man with the magical skill equivalent to that of a small Wombat was really going to have been able to take on Tom Riddle in his prime. Tom doubted that he would have been able to take him at half a soul even with preparation, and if he was being generous Tom would say that even not taken by complete surprise that he could have killed him with no less than 15 different items in the room two of them that would be untraceable and not have him receive a death sentence, all before Fudge landed a single spell. But politeness demanded that he not point any of this out and smile nicely, nod here and there, and stroke the man’s ego just enough to hopefully get out of the Ministry with a possible list of contacts for political career choices. 

Even with the promise of high reward, the work he was putting into this and the boredom was near unbearable. He must have been mad to do this sort of thing 40 years ago. How the Hell had he survived Networking, with nothing but spurs of boredom. He blames Harry, as the boy doesn’t sit still and had been affecting him with the need to do things that he wanted and liked versus the things that he could build a successful life with. It just did not seem like it was worth it. Especially when Fudge started talking about the next Quidditch world cup of all things. 

A stag had decorated the dim office space with its splendid blue light. The near-transparent creature, bowed ever so slightly to him, its ears twitching, eyes wide and soulless. He can feel Harry's magic, even before the thing transmits its message, and Harry’s voice comes out, almost calmly, but with just a hint of panic that he knows well. “Tom return home. It can’t wait. I am going ahead, the note on the Kitchen Table will explain everything.” The blue stag then ran around the table before fading towards where the exit was.

“What was that?” Fudge looks surprised. 

“I have to go.” Tom feels that awful feeling settling into his gut, but also that very vibrant feeling of anger that Harry would dare to go ahead after they had talked about this. “Harry is most likely in trouble. 

“What?” Fudge gets to his feet, but Tom is faster. He cares not for social decorum in a time like this. He knows what going ahead means. 

He is going to kill him… Well not really because that would not be all that much of a hassle for Harry, and causing the other harm is still one of the things that Tom tries not to do, even though he is in favor of small stinging hex if an insult is grave enough. 

He hadn’t apparated here alone, Harry had gotten him here. 

Damn it, Harry…

He still couldn’t apparate alone or at least he has yet to try it, longer distances than a few hundred feet. While he is building up what he can do there are still issues with being tired after making jumps and if this was an emergency then there certainly was a problem of showing up somewhere completely drained of Magical Potential. 

He took a deep breath and ran to the public flews and said their home address very clearly. He nearly broke his neck exiting the fireplace and by tripping over blind old Moon Moon that is laying there and watching the green flames that are dying out from under him. 

He tears his way to the kitchen and looks over the note. It's not very descriptive, but the urgency is clear. 

He really is going to kill Harry. 

And there is only one way to get to him and he isn’t going to have a choice if he wants to make sure that he finds him. He is going to have to apparate to this small restaurant front. His grip on his wand tightens. And he feels Loki brush against his leg. Her belly is swollen up now, and she is going to give birth soon. He gently brushes her away from him as she paws at him. 

“Not now.” he just refrains from hissing at her. He is not in the mood for her affections. He is trying to concentrate. Everything went black; he was pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his ear-drums were being pushed deeper into his skull. It was just like his first time that he had ever done so. He leaned against the fence of a small suburban home and vomited. He lost everything from his tea to his lunch. He rubbed the last of it off with the back of his hand. There were people looking at him funny, as they did not see where he came from and he was not dressed to look like one of them. He never would have wanted to, but he was certainly drawing attention to himself like this. It was dark, and yet they knew there was something off about him. 

When he no longer felt like he was going to pass out, he took long strides, that broke into a run trying to locate Harry, there is faint evidence, faintly illuring sign of his magic. 

He tries to follow it. 

Please for once be safe…

Harry’s magic is faint, but he does his best to follow it. Following that feeling as if his soul is on fire, that need to be close to that part that grounded him. He follows that feeling to the small restaurant that Harry was supposed to be meeting Severus at. 

And there is no sign of him or the person that he is meeting, that trail fades and is replaced by another magical signature that is doing its best to be hidden, and the way that it has almost been seemingly cleansed means that someone was doing their best to eliminate evidence. 

But he checks it all regardless, hoping against what he doesn’t know, for Harry has poisoned him with that word. There are too many people around, they look at him with wide and confused faces. And he wants to tell them to fuck off. To leave him be, and to go away so that he can perform the necessary enchantments to look for Harry. He wants to curse them. He wants to burn the place to the ground. 

He will murder whoever had done this. Harry would have sent him another Patronus if he was safe. If he was okay there would have been some sort of note or message. 

So someone had taken him. Taken his Harry…

And his magic is nearly pouring out of him, he is hardly able to contain it. Logically there are few that would do such a thing. The Death Eaters wouldn’t have jeperize themselves by touching something that was in their master’s plan or someone that was related to him. They would want to see what he would do, wait for better signs. They were foolish and wanted to be in the shadows, especially the ones that had denounced him. They wouldn’t risk this. There are even fewer Wizards he knows of that would in a very Muggle location take someone, it required knowledge of Muggles that many Purebloods didn’t have. It left in his opinion the option that it really was Severus that had baited Harry here to take him or it was one of Albus’s.

He can feel what is left of his magic rolling off of him in waves as he progressively gets more and more worked up with the idea. 

How dare anyone take Harry.

How dare they take the one good thing from him.

How dare Harry value, someone, as pathetic as Severus over himself if there was some sort of trade when Harry was obviously worth more. 

His hands shake, as his mind whirled with how to solve this issue. He moves towards the alleyway and wills the nearest Muggle to leave. They happily teetered off to wherever it was that they would no longer be a nuisance to him or something that he wanted to murder to take the edge off. He takes deep breaths after deep breaths, but it doesn’t help. Harry would be upset with him if he was to hurt anyone that was innocent, but with how upset he is, it feels like the only way to let it out. He would have to satisfy himself with thinking about the person or people responsible for this bleeding, screaming, begging him for their lives. He would make it slow, worse than slow if there was even a hair misplaced on Harry’s head. 

And he wouldn’t care what Harry said about it in protest. Nothing mattered more than them. They were the perfect match, they were a pair. Their souls were bound together for all eternity if Tom willed it to be so. He would never regret creating his last but accidental one. It was what had given him such a wondrous gift, and not that gift was gone, and possibly for a long period of time and the idea is aggravating, horrifying, and sends fear in waves off of his as well as something that is ugly and he has no way to tell what it is, it's like ice and brings a thought of forever emptiness if he can not hold Harry close again. 

He has never felt like this before… 

Never this helpless on what to do, what to think, how to act. His very self trembles with it. 

He knows… He knows that he is weak like this. The only thing to weaken him ever had been himself before Harry. It is all because of Harry, he had come and made him care for him. He had resurrected Tom with a need to be whole again. He is sure of it, and being whole was how he felt only when he was with Harry, and free to be nearly completely himself. And he was now in very great danger, as this had obviously been a trap that Harry felt nothing about walking into. 

It was up to him to get Harry out of it, and he could not do that if he was panicking or angry to the point of seeing red. 

He had told Harry to think… to think just for once in his life. 

He hates him for it because of course, Harry’s lack of forethought would bite the both of them. Because why would Harry ever listen to Tom of all people. The window of the building shattered and a Muggle screamed. Tom paid it no notice. He held his chin, curling the fingers around the bottom with a need to think. This was not one of the times where he had infinite amounts of time to reach a proper well throughout and executed decision. As horrible as it is, he needs to act on impulse, and perhaps even rashly. The more time he wasted the worse that it could be for Harry.

The very twisted part of him almost hums with the thought that it served him right for not listening, it would teach him to listen to him more often, but the other part of him doesn’t want Harry to suffer horribly for yet another one of the boys own mistakes. Harry can not die but there was a lot of damage that a person could be put through and not die. There was the chance that he could be driven insane or the body would be destroyed and that would cause a mess that he is not ready for. 

Yes, there really isn’t time to lose. He needed to do this how Harry did most things, it was more key to finding him quickly than worrying about the consequences of doing so. He would let the word out that someone had Kidnapped Harry, he would not name anyone, he would simply claim it. That way all would be on alert, and perhaps it would force his captor to make a desperate play. Tom could work with those. 

In the meantime, he needed to gather up the energy to make another jump to a location that might be where someone in the order would take Harry. The only problem is he only knows for sure two members of that mess as the others wanted nothing to do with Dumbledore anymore. He leans against the wall to the restaurant and ignores the way the Muggles seem to have turned up the music up.

The former members were Sirius and Remus. One of which was a werewolf about now and Sirius was no doubt just keeping him company. He will mail them but they will not be much use till the morning late morning if he knows anything about werewolf transformations they are painful. He would have to yell at the other about taking wolfsbane potions so that he was remotely useful should there be issues on the full moon. Dumbledore has planned this well. The other members were the Wheasly’s and Severus himself which was out of the question. 

The Weasleys could be of some use. Certainly, the people that had once been like Harry’s family would help him. Especially if they didn’t know this time around that he held a bit of Tom’s soul in him. To them, Harry was just probably a scared child, and if they thought that Tom was sincere about caring for Harry which he was, then they might help find him, or look into places that he couldn’t. That was where he would check first after he sent out more of the warnings. He just had to make sure that he did not have the urge to kill the youngest of them for what they did to Harry in his past life. 

~/*\~

There is a soft click and Severus quietly makes his way out of his personal stores. He finds one of the extra wands that he keeps and takes it with him. He has not used it since his Death Eater days, this wand had done horrible things. It doesn’t fit with the man that he has become in the years since his former master’s absence. That man had been obsessed with the Dark, full of anger, resentment, and self-hatred that came out in the most violent and vile ways imaginable. 

No, he was no longer that man, he was many things that were mirrored by someone that had realized too late the self-destructive path they had been on. But just this once, he would have to be like that Darker part of himself. He would have to kill the man that he had once trusted, it was a way to ensure their safety. Sirius, Harry, and this Marvolo that they cared for. 

He takes one of the many hidden passages out of the castle, it's easier than one would have expected with the students, most of them at least in their beds and the staff asleep. He takes extra care anyway, slipping off into the night to make sure that anyone that might be in on Dumbledore’s plans doesn’t intercept him. 

The logical place to check for the boys first and to update the man that has been acting as a partner in this endeavor is Sirius’s main home, the address that he writes on the letters that they exchange. He will not be able to get past the wards but perhaps if they see him that will be enough to at least get someone to talk to him. He can not risk using an owl, his or otherwise. The message may be intercepted just like before. 

~/*\~

Harry wakes sitting at a small table in the Shrieking Shack. His head is throbbing, but he assumes that is the worst part currently about his situation. No one can get past his mental walls, at least without the danger of scattering his sanity. Which he assumes that the person that looks like Severus that is sitting across from him wants. Harry has a great deal of doubt that his captor has done what he has for simple money. No, he wants to know something, it's in the way that he has taken him to a place that few would enter, but is close to Hogwarts and had access to Snape’s hair. 

He is not bound, but he is on wand point and he knows that the person that is standing there has taken precautions against apparition, he can feel wards around him that are similar to the ones that he had placed around Grimmauld Place to keep people out that were not keyed to enter. 

“I wondered when you would make a move, going for looking like Severus was unexpected, but I figured that it would be soon.” Harry smiles slightly. 

“So you know who I am, what gave it away?” The voice sounds like Severus but Harry had known him for years. He knew what his face should have looked like.

“The facial expressions. Snape is not exactly known for much other than his prominent frown.” 

“Ah yes, Severus does seem to have a very intimidating scowl.” 

“Only if you have reason to fear it.” Harry disagrees. He knows that Snape could be terrifying towards some of the students, and he could be blatantly unfair, but some of it was rooted with keeping the potions lab in one piece. The permanent frown was the price that the man paid for all the secrecy and stress that he was under, the lies and the guilt, and Harry does not hate him for all the things that he has done, because he knows what he ultimately would do in the name of good to make up for them. 

“And I am sure you believe that I have reason to.” 

“No, you have to fear for another reason.” Harry frowns because Tom no doubt would be coming for him. He would come swiftly and strike hard. He has no idea if Tom will be successful against the old man, Dumbledore, who is pretending to be Severus for the time being.

“Your ‘Tom’ would be that reason correct?” The dark eyebrow rises, just slightly. “Harry I have to ask you and I want you to answer honestly, do you know who he actually is?”

“He is Marvolo Tomas Gaunt, he is 16, his father is Lord Voldemort and his mother was a half-blooded Witch. He was held for 3 years with me, and we have been together ever since. He is an asshole sometimes, arrogant, but namely kind to those that he cares for and overprotective. I am stating a blatant fact to tell you that he is going to come for me, and bring hell with him.” Harry easily slips into their cover story. He knows it in and out. He knows the truth that is buried in with the lies so well that it fits into him like a puzzle piece. As he really wishes that that was their story and not the concluded mess that it really was. 

“I was hoping to not have to resort to this, but I believe that in order for you to tell the truth that you must be made to do so.”

Harry stared at him and stared at him very hard. It is as if he is looking into him. He wants him to feel it, feel the ways that his eyes burn with life. He had once loved this man that sits in front of him. Yes, he was naive in a way to trust and follow him blindly, but there had been good. He had seemed a human with flaws that were much like Tom, mistakes that had complied and while Albus had not killed nearly the total that Tom had he knows that there are sins that are critical that lurk under the surface. Even with the things that he did not like, Harry had hoped against it all that the man would just let him be, that he could have a new life without the expectations and obligations that the world demanded of him since he was born. He can no longer love the man that he sees. It makes him wonder if it all was a lie. Every last thing… Even at times when he swore that there was no way that a human could lie like that. 

Was all he ever was a lamb for the slaughter, a chess piece to defeat Tom not only in his old life but in this one as well? Was that their fate, that no matter the good or healing that they do that Tom will die because of Harry. Not because Harry has willed it, but because he is to be the end to Tom no matter the circumstance.

He really hated the vagueness of prophecies, but who he sees before him, is a person that can not let go, that is chasing monsters that do not exist and is going to create another one entirely by pushing Tom to the snapping point. The funny thing is that it was love that has created something that probably would be far more horrifying to face than the version of Voldemort that was in it for only himself, that thought he was invincible. No Tom was aware of how vulnerable that he was, how human he was, that he had a weakness, and he had named it Harry while kissing his lips and holding onto him far too tightly. He was desperate to hold onto his light, or new life, or whatever it was that he saw in being with Harry. And a desperate Tom was a horrifying one. He has reason to fight and he has reason to win. Harry had little doubt that he would come for him and fight with a viciousness that none had seen before. 

“You disappoint me, you were once a great Wizard that even if you left me to live with my relatives I could still respect you. You were someone that seemed to treat others fairly, and give them the benefit of the doubt, strove to protect, and heal. Yes, compromises had to be made, mistakes even, but you were remorseful for them. You are not even half that person anymore. Forcing someone to tell you something? Making a confession for sins that were never made. You have fallen Albus Dumbledore and you are going to push Marvolo to do something that he doesn’t have to do, that he wouldn’t want to do in order to save me.”

“Marvolo is Lord Voldemort, but maybe you already knew that. Maybe that is why you are so adamant to deny it.” Dumbledore leans in closer, there is a glass that he has on the table with clear liquid and he knows what lies inside of it. 

“Tom is not Voldemort.” He had not been for a long time. “No matter what you drug me with, the answer will not change,” Harry says it definitely, and he can feel the pressure on his head, but his shields hold, and he gazes right back. Daring him to try him. He won’t give up the secrets of his new life. 

“We will see,” Dumbledore says in that grave voice like he is disappointed in him. And even years later hearing that tone makes him feel that childish ache, as he had once sought so hard to be accepted by this man. Someone thought to be his teacher, friend, and mentor. 

The binding spell nearly takes all the air out of his lungs and he feels that he can not breathe as the potion is forced down his throat, drink, or don’t breathe it's an easy equation for his brain. It downs the liquid when there is no holding back anymore. He sees little lingering black spots, feels the burn on his throat. 

His eyes water. “I am really sorry that you have become this, perhaps that is what I get for knowing how things could have been.” 

Dumbledore ignores him. “What is your name?”

“Harry Potter, but I never liked that name. I prefer Harrison to those that aren’t my friends” 

Harry is compelled to answer, but he knows that the potion while making him need to tell the truth was iffy about how the truth could be used. If he really believed something then that was truth to him, and truth meant different things to different people. it was up to individual interpretation, it was why the potion could not be used in courts. He also could try and use roundabout answers. He knew whatever else was in that drink was affecting his ability to Occulate but not enough to make him lose the ability to try and fight to tell the truth. 

“What is the date?”

“September 24th.” 

That seems to satisfy the old man as he launched into his first pointed question.

“Who is Morte?” 

Harry grimaced that had not been what he had expected. “A friend and a Mentor.” 

“What did they teach you.” 

“You're going to have to be more specific than that.” Harry smiles largely. “I would say that he taught me a little of everything.”

“Anything with Dark Magic then.” It seemed that the old man was not in the mood for games, which was too bad for him because Harry could play a stall game if he had to. It was rather unfortunate though for him that Dumbledore wanted the answer sooner than later. 

Harry pauses feeling a slight burning. “Depending on how you look at it, I don’t consider it dark but you might.” 

“What did he teach you, that could be considered dark,” Dumbledore asks carefully.

“How to ward with blood, how to speak with Dementors, understand Threshal ” Harry lists. The burning is still there, a dull one in his belly that leads towards his throat, as he tries to keep the biggest thing that he knows to himself. He bites his tongue hard so that there is a little blood that starts to drip out of his mouth. 

“What else did Morte teach you?” 

“About the Hollows and Death…” Harry hissed out, his voice almost switching to parseltongue and it is then that he had the brilliant idea that he would be answering, just not the way that Dumbledore had intended. 

~/*\~

Tom paces the floor, there are people searching now for Severus and Harry. He knows that they will be useless. Harry has been missing for several hours, and he feels like it has been an eternity. He feels nothing but useless. He has tried tracking spells, and traces. But Harry probably has defenses against such things. He can not summon Death, he has tried to get a hold of his bird by reciting what Harry had not so long ago in his kitchen. 

Nothing is working. 

Nothing is helping. 

He had destroyed the living room and put it back together multiple times, because he will bring Harry home to a safe place, one that he has not destroyed. He had almost singed the tail fur of the orange tabby, and Moon Moon was very stubborn about not leaving his place by the fire even when parts of the furniture were wheezing by his head. Moon Moon’s vacant eyes didn’t so much as flinch at his anger. 

He sits down with his head in his hands. It is so hard to pretend to be this child, teenager. It's tiring, he finds that he could have got results by pressing his Death Eaters into action or terrorizing enough people to draw out the Order. But no, he has no real contacts. Harry is the one that has most of the cards. Sirius would be joining the hunt soon enough but that was just one other person. He supposed that the Werewolf would join in, but that was 2 decently competent people looking. The ministry might have been looking into the crime scene but they could not figure out much other than what Tom had told them. 

He stands and he can out of the corner of his eye, make out a figure that is standing along the fences that line the outside if the apartments. Someone that was not there when he last had the urge to look out for it. It is too late for most Muggles. The people that are patrolling look different, Tom has met with them. And Tom knows the ‘neighbors’ well enough. The old man that lives what could be considered next door, was a smoker and he is the only one that would be out this late. The woman to the left of them has children and she would have been asleep by now.

Somehow thinking of her tucked into her bed, safe, with her children nearly drowns out his rage for a few seconds. Harry had been talking of children lately, not necessarily adopting them right away, but just commenting on how the cats are as good as his children because he had created them. So it feels like he was a grandfather, which is ridiculous but he had been almost not exactly excited but happy he supposed that Loki would have her kittens any day now. He had no idea the names that they would come up with, but knowing Harry there would be 2 be awfully named, and the one that Tom convinced him to name something reasonable. Loki needed to have one of her children named after what they would be by myth, it just made sense to him. It's a security that Harry wants a future with him, but it's more damning than ever now. 

He squints and feels at the wards they are holding and so he takes the cloak that Harry has hidden in his trunk and takes off the ring that has not left his finger since he knew what it was. He can’t be too careful now, Dumbledore could not be allowed to obtain all the Hollows nor could they all be in one place or Harry would no longer be their master. 

He slips out into the night, the person is wearing what seem to be Muggle clothes, but the rain that has started to fall does not dampen them. The form is familiar and he can not help but scowl deeply when he knows who it is. 

Severus…

~/*\~

He has been lurking for far too long, his hands have gotten a tad cold from the slightly chilly September air. He has cast quite a few drying spells and a few heating ones to keep himself warm. He has pressed against the wards, but whoever is the main holder of them has not responded. There have been a few other Wizards that have walked past as if they are patrolling the area, but they are not looking at him as he is wearing mostly Muggle attire and has not done much more than seemed like he was reading and smoking outside by the public bench. He could have tried talking to them as they might know more than he did at this point, but he is wary of them as they look to be from the Ministry and if Albus has attacked the boys already or is waiting to, then it could cause some sort of suspicion that a former Death Eater was standing outside the Boy-who-lived home. 

Smoking was a bad habit that he had picked up back in his Death Eater days. Severus found that it helped with the nerves, and it gave him a reason to step out every once and a while from a meeting or torture session. He knows that it is something that has made his teeth yellow a tad, and his hair become greasy. He just finds that when the chips are down, he will pick up a pack and find someplace to smoke it peacefully. 

He has a feeling and awful feeling that will not leave him that he is too late. 

There is suddenly a boy in front of him, pulling him past the wards with a grip that is stronger than one would think someone that was his age would be able to achieve, as there is not much to him other than his height. Marvolo has a horrifying crazed look on his face, that reminds him of some of the Wizards he had chased down and they fought to their last breath, all for a war that he never should have been a part of. Magic, potent, strong, dark, much like Voldemort is coming off of the Teen. If looks could kill then he was sure that he would have been dead in an instant. It's the way that he is looking at him, the hold, and the fierceness of his appearance that jars him the most. 

“Where is Harry?” The voice is forceful and pushes against the flimsy shields of his mind as dark brown eyes look into his. 

He is desperate, he can tell by his tone, that he believes that perhaps Severus knows something that he doesn’t. But that is hard to know at this point. Severus doesn't really have much to go on. 

“He got to Harry first.” It slips out rather poorly from his lips, but he would blame the way that this evening is playing out and the implications of the fact that the boy-who-lived was now missing and his boyfriend is not the one that the headmaster had targeted.

“Yes, that horrible, fucking old man has something to do with it I am certain.” Marvolo does not loosen his hold he only tightens it. “I will kill him if he has harmed Harry in any way.” 

He seemed to be talking to himself more than Severus for that part of it, and completely honest about killing him. No hesitation, no tremor of fear at the possibility that he would have to do that. It is a fact and he says it as such. 

“You being here means that you didn’t snatch Harry, but if you know anything useful you will tell me now.” The teen regains himself and demands. “Because he went to find you and from where I stand he valued your life more than his own. Even though he hardly knows you.” 

Marvolo spits that last part out as if he deems the fact that Harry wants to do anything heroic to be sickening. Severus has a feeling that their personalities conflicted on that. Harry seemed to carry the more Gryffindor aspects of character, like his parents before him and Marvolo the Slytherin side that his blood carried. Of course, this was just the first impression that he had and this was hardly a normal situation. 

“I don’t know where he is Marvolo.” Severus makes his voice come out evenly, and calmly as if to be the one that is in more control of himself. He would be the rational one if Marvolo was incapable of it at the moment. “I was hoping to warn him of the Headmaster’s latest attempt on my life. He seems to have been pushed towards taking more drastic measures. I didn’t think he would go after Harry, he seemed more interested in targeting you in particular.”

Marvolo releases him as if he has burned him, muttering and cursing in what almost sounds like gibberish, but he recognizes to be a combination of hisses and another language Romainian or possibly Russian. 

“Is there a way to find him other than tracking spells, tracers, that sort of thing.” Marvolo suddenly is oddly calm. He is almost smiling too sharply. It is as if he is trying to replicate humanity and it has come out wrong and forced. “I have been brainstorming ways to find him since the Ministry is completely useless.”

“I am sure that I can help you come up with something.” Severus hides the slight chill that climbs its way up his back. 

~/*\~

Harry feels like his defenses are starting to cave, as what he is drugged with has a strong hold, and so does his former Headmaster.

````Tom is standing there yelling at him about not sharing why his magic is wrong. He can see the dangerous flash of red to the brown.`````

He can feel his brain being picked at, with about as much tact as when Voldemort had possessed him. He screams for how long he is not sure. His mind-twisting to different places as it is pressed on prodded against like a wound. 

```He is hugging Hermione close by his parents' graves, he has a small tear that rolls down his face at the thought of their deaths, and it switches fast to Sirius falling behind the veil. The voices are calling and there is the blackness of reality where existence and it ends. `````

He tries to escape the feeling of being sucked in and dragged under black waves of his own mind. His usually clear water that he pictures as a shield parts like the red sea and memories and stray thoughts come crashing hard against the shore. But he fights, he fights it with all that he has, and yet just like the tide. It comes in, there is no controlling it. 

``` Tom and him are laughing, and Tom holds onto his fingertips.```

Harry feels his insides seem to burn, burn as he feels his own heart beating and the blood that is rushing in his veins. He doesn’t want anyone else to see this. Not because he is ashamed but because if he looks at it… he will realize just how much he cares for Tom. 

`` “I don’t know, but if we think that it will end; if we're preparing for it. Maybe it's best not to think that it ever will, that we can make it work.” ```` 

``‘Tom laughs at that, it's a soft short one. “So we are together forever? You know that I wish to live forever.”``` 

No… He kicks at the water and tries to breach the surface, it is like there is ice that is trapping him under, in forever darkness. His air is running out, there is no up and there is only his memories and thoughts below. The ones that he is hiding. Death’s robe is blowing in the corner of his vision. He gives another hard hit to the glass ceiling, hard and pouches it again. Feeling his hand hurt, hearing his own yelling but feeling as if there is nothing but a whisper coming out of him. His heart beats faster. 

```Tom is leaning hard against him, holding him, and Harry pictures the kiss that they shared, the way that he holds tightly to Tom and Tom holds tightly onto him. How they fell asleep holding one another at that thought of forever.````

```He can see the way that Tom is looking at him as they dance with that possessive, but proud look that always makes him feel wanted. ````

He throws everything he can, magic and mind at trying to get out of where he is, and he breaks the surface. He breathes in deep and focuses and forces everything he has to get control over his own mind. He violently kicks Dumbledore out of his head. Gasping and crying because it feels like he has been both violated in the worst way possible, but also because it is worse than most other things that he has to endure. 

Those blue eyes bore into his. “You love him, despite what he has done to you. You love Voldemort.” Dumbledore’s shocked expression morphs to disappointment, and then something that might be anger or resentment. It does not matter, because Harry laughs. He has thought that he has loved Tom. He knew that they were close, that they sort of belonged but the word said by someone else, just seems to cement it. 

It confirms that he does truly love Tom. It makes him almost comfortable to think it, without that horrible fear that used to come creeping with it. That unsettling twist that asked what would happen if certain people knew, and it suddenly doesn’t matter as much as it had before. It just clicks that he doesn’t care anymore. He wants to be happy.

“Maybe I do.” He says softly through his haze. “Maybe I really love Tom more than anything else.” 

Dumbledore hits him with another mind dive than with more shattering force.

~/*\~  
“I have one other idea,” Severus says as the sun is rising and it hurts for Tom to even blink. He is so tired, his nerves are fired, and there is still no word from Harry. They are no closer to finding him. That cold feeling has gotten worse, the only thing keeping him going is the need to find Harry, and the burning of his own rage. 

“Which is?” Tom glares at him. He has made it clear that he blames Severus for some of the mess that he is in. Harry had felt the need to save the man after all.  
“It might not work, but Patronus can lead the way to objects, or find people that it has a message for. What if we were to follow one?”

Tom hesitates at this. It is a good idea, in theory. There is however a problem in his youth he had been able to cast one, but as he became more of well… the snake monster that he knows Haunts Harry’s nightmares he had lost the ability. As he is sure that Snape has as well. 

“It could work.” He is willing to try anything but that would mean that they needed someone that could cast it.

Severus looks at him expectantly, and Tom does the same. The ‘older’ man sighs and raises his wand and it trembles ever so lightly in his hand. It gives more context to the messed up near-death experience that the other claims to have gone through. There is the flick and expected words, but the Patronus forms and it is that of a doe. A pretty dainty little thing that tilts its head and its large eyes stare at the both of them.

“How…?” He can not help but ask, because Severus had done horrible things, much like he had. But that was not even the most confusing part, his is a doe. Harry’s was a stag and his fathers had been as well. 

“Is Harry’s a doe?” Severus asks, sounding intrigued.

“It's a stag, his father’s was as well.” Tom shakes his head. Severus doesn't look as pleased but seems to accept it. 

“His mother's was a doe, and she was a very good friend of mine.” Severus hesitates a moment before telling him this. And Tom suddenly has a great context for why he was asked to spare Lily all those years ago. Severus cared very deeply about her, as his happiness and pure heartfelt thoughts about her are enough to create such a thing.  
“I see.” Because he does now because he has cared for Harry. 

“Help us find Harry,” Severus asks the image of pure magic and positive thoughts. And it bows its head and takes off running as a spirit guide to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected as I have been having issues with my arthritis lately. It's been acting up as work has been very active now that things are opening up again to the public and I have been working more hours. Sorry bout that, I should be updating least once a week now if things stay the way that they are. 
> 
> The next chapter will have similar warnings at the top like this one and a few more added to it. We're nearing the end but I may up the chapter number as I have a feeling that it can't be tied up in just 3 chapters if I keep hitting that crazy 10,000 words about limits. Not to worry though there should be a satisfying I am sure conclusion. 
> 
> I will see you for the next chapter. **A Dance of Death.** Much love!


	19. A Dance of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets another being of power and Severus and Tom face Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mind Torture, a small bit of blood/gore, a bit of perhaps more than cannon violence? 
> 
> Let's go!

Dumbledore digs deeper under the surface of Harry Potter’s mind. It's all about excreting will and pressing certain parts correctly. There is so much in his head, so much, he has not seen. It is nothing like Severus's mind or any he has been in before. It's not organized in any particular pattern but the scatteredness hints at a different level of truth. Harry is not exactly like most other people, there are memories he has that are real and untampered but show a different life, a different world, than the one that Albus knows. And yet there is something almost familiar about it. He seeks to know more, as Harry might be a seer and key to multiple branches that are possible for reality. Even if the boy is not a reliable narrator. 

He certainly can not see Tom the type to hold a cat close nor talk about forever in a sense of spending it with someone. He can not see these traits Harry has fallen in love with to be anything but cleverly crafted lies. Harry has disillusioned himself to think there is anything more than obsessions and a need to control the very person that was supposed to destroy him. And honestly, Albus would give Tom credit where it was due. 

What better way to ensure victory, but to seduce and make the champion of the light fall deeply in love?

Yes, love was quite the powerful weapon, and emotion Tom can not feel but can understand apparently enough to weaponize it. Tom has always been a liar from the day that he had met him, lying about the severity of his own doings against his fellow orphans and trying to conceal all that he is with false faces. Even as a student there were a million facets to him, none the real thing, but the edges sharp enough to cut deep. Tom in every sense of the word was a monster from an early age. It matters little the tool that he chose this time around, it was just another angle to get what it was that he wanted.

“He doesn’t love you.” Albus shakes his head at the pitiable boy that has become a vessel for something quite dark and evil. 

“You're wrong,” Harry says his voice is very gargled having been used to scream as much as he has. It's not that Dumbledore wished to cause the boy so much pain, he has just been extracting what he needs to know. He has so many people to protect, especially if he has to take Harry’s place and defeat yet another Dark Lord. Regret burns in him for both the actions that he has been forced to take for the greater good and also because he is wearing his emotions on his sleeve again. 

“Tom wasn’t always a monster, he's not even really one anymore, I have seen his memories too. Not because I forced them but because I have been given the chance to. He hides himself like all abused children learn to do. Lie and fake what needs to be faked. He wasn’t given guidance and by his own horrible choices, his own bad decisions, he fell down a path that there was no surfacing from.” 

Perhaps he had been talking out loud again… He is having a hard time keeping it all inside his head now, he never used to be that way, but he will admit that the years of worrying, the foiled plans one after another, the public losing faith in him, the Wizardmort asking that he retire, the dangers of the Dark Lord and his followers' stirring, the reemergence of Tom Riddle and Harry, everything had compiled into something that kept him from sleeping. He was always seeming steps behind where he needed to be, with none taking him seriously. Lack of sleep and the constant stress has taken a toll he knows. When his task is done he will be able to relax, breathe, and everyone will know what he has done was to save them all. 

“You don’t have to push him down another dark path, I have been trying to help him fix his soul and he has come to regret some of the more horrible things that he has done. I know that can’t bring those lives back.” Harry seems to be looking for mercy for the person he has fallen in love with, such sentiment was wasted on someone like Riddle.

“He has murdered at least a hundred people.” Albus shakes his head. “He has had his minions kill hundreds more. He sparked something that caused us all to have to go to war, a war that claimed many people, many children. He even brought back those that had died and used their rotten corpses to attack their very family members. He even killed your parents and their friends.”

“I know that.” Harry takes a deep breath that pulls against his bonds with the way that it expands his chest. 

“I know.” He says even softer. “But still he would have come back no matter the circumstance as he has bound his soul to this realm. I know you know about the Horcruxes. You have seen some of them in my mind and you have told Severus about the possible existence of them. Is it not better, to have him try and fix some of the damage he has done as a sane man, who will not make the same mistakes, than to just keep having to kill him and have the process repeat itself over and over again?” 

“And what he walks free from all that he has done, no sentence, no justice to be had for those that he has wronged?” Albus raises his eyebrows. At the end of everything, Harry is still a child that believes in ideals that can not exist in reality. It is good to wish for the things that he has mentioned but he is foolish to believe that they are even possible. “There is no redemption for someone like that, no forgiveness to be had. He is too far gone.”

“Perhaps there is no way to ever undo such wrongs.” Harry smiles at him, his eyes soft. “But I don’t have to forgive all of it, nor do I or others have to forget what he has done. He can regret those things for all his life, he could suffer your version of justice, he could burn in the seven levels of hell for all eternity and it would not change anything. He at the end of the day is human and no matter what he does or others do to him it will not bring back the people that he has killed, it can’t right all the wrongs. I believe that he can change, that he doesn’t have to be that horrible insane version of himself and that he can be a force of good with the right guidance.”

“One thing I have learned about humans, Harry is if they have done it once then they will do it again.” Albus shakes his head, “We are creatures of habit after all. Love as you think of it can not change such a person.” 

“Is that what you think happened between you and Grindelwald?” Harry tilts his head. “Do you think that I am doomed to fail because you feel that you have failed? I might not be able to change everything about him but I have to try, surely you can understand that as another person that fell in love with another that was on the wrong path.” 

Albus freezes. 

~/*\~

It is sudden when the pain seems to stop. It feels as if he is weightless and that he is falling slowly, and when he opens his eyes he can see nothing but black stretched infinitely in front of him. He lands almost gratefully, his feet shaking below him. There is the creeping of cold and ice that forms along the ground, frost creeping toward him as he takes a step back feeling it brush against the corner of his robes. There are voices slowly mixing around him, they are hissing, whispering, and he can feel eyes on him even if he can not see any of them. They are all around him and he covers his ears so that he doesn’t have to hear their voices. 

The sound of something crunching against the snow makes him dare to look up from the demons that seem to be playing around him, lurking just out of sight in the fogs that are shifting around him. There is swirling of dark, and colors of the deepest darkest of grays and blues as there forms a being that he is all too familiar with. Holding his sickle with the bright lantern balancing off of the curve the handle. There is that faint trace of white as the only light to the place flickers in a cool breeze that picks up. His breath comes out of him in long vapered misty puffs. His chest glows with the smallest of lights that is being pulled at by the light that Death is swinging. His head bowed and the way that the sockets are bathed in shadow, reminds him as if they are bags under the eyes of a person, they are almost like they are half-lidded and there is a faint blue to them that makes the expression all the softer. 

**You have died again.** The Reaper tells him, his voice humming and soft as he gestures about the wasteland that is around them. **The souls here remember you, they know what it is that you have done for them. Some have chosen to wait for you.**

The crossroads had changed for him, it is no longer a train station. The invisible eyes are now almost visible as there are shadowy outlines of figures. They move in the mists, and the whispering is a chorus of thank-yous and other kind words. They are almost encouraging and they are not as frightening as before as he feels the sensation of a hug and another that pulls lightly against his hair as it to pet it down crests it like a mother. They move in and out of the shadows now, people. But even with them being so welcoming, he does know that they are dead and he has no wish to remain in this place. Not now when he had begun what Death had advised him from the start, to live.

“Is my body still intact?” Harry brings himself to finally speak. The idea that it is destroyed and there is no way back to Tom is an unwelcome one. Death studies him with a level gaze before replying. 

**Yes, I suppose in the fundamental sense, all the limbs are there. There are no torn organs or broken bones, but your mind was certainly scattered.**

Death bows his head and it makes Harry look down as well. There is a large crack in the place that they stand, Harry can see it under the ice and black polished surface that they stand upon. 

“Can you fix it.” Harry looks back up at Death feeling the only reason that he is able to think clearly at the moment is because he is in this realm that belongs to Morte. Conversations here have everything to do with feelings that came from the soul and Harry has one that is intact. 

**I can, however, it will be a long process. It will be painful when you awaken.** Death doesn’t sound like he likes the idea of it. There is that slight tick in his vocal pattern that suggests that things could possibly not work the way that Harry wishes them too.

“How painful?” Harry can not help but ask, he needs to prepare himself for that pain. Death however disregards the question. 

**Would not rest be better?**

“As in staying dead.” Harry feels the breeze pick up. 

**If you are to suffer, and fate wishes to take again from you more than she has is it not better to stay here?** Death moves closer to him, there is the sound of a creak as the lantern moves and bangs as he moves forward. His hand raises as if he is debating touching him in what could be a comforting manner for such a creature. 

It seems like he wants him to stay, in a place where there was no more pain. Where Harry could slip into the nothing and finally be at peace as the master of death, in the realm that he is meant to govern or be a part of till the Deathly Hollows are collected again by some other soul. Death had been lonely, but he did like him living, giving him entertainment. Perhaps over the years they had with each other Death had gotten himself attached to him, cared about him if just a little. 

“I can not leave the world of the living now.” Harry looks up into the smoke that shifts by Death’s face and body. “I can not stay.” 

Death tilts his head, much more than he should have given a human bone-like structure. He looks much like one of his many birds that he liked to send to Harry. **Is it nor preferable to stay, where there is no pain, and no danger? Tom is close to fixing his soul and when he dies he could take the last bit of his soul from you and you could both leave for the afterlife. It would be forever peaceful, safe, and you need not worry about the danger that looms over you as your secrets spread.**

He doesn’t understand, perhaps such a being was not meant to. Death was not human, he acted like one, in a way Harry thought that he wanted to be like one, not obviously to live such a short life, but to understand the emotions that they kept so close to them. 

“Tom needs me.” Harry looks up into those burning eyes. “He can not go without guidance, all the good that he has tried to do in order to become whole again will crumble if he thinks I will not return to him.”

 **Perhaps.** Death sighs deeply. **It does seem that you have had a positive influence on him. Many in your place would not have gone the extra and fallen in love with someone that is like him. Many would have thought him past the point of redemption.**

Harry feels his face heat ever so slightly, as he looks up at the twisting mist that almost seems like clouds to him now. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

**No I suppose that it was not. You seem to have fallen fast and hard. Do you think that it is possible that it will last? Last past well me?**

“I don’t know.” Harry shakes his head. “It's impossible to know really. I want it to for whatever reason that is, no matter how foolish it is to be in love with someone that doesn’t quite yet understand the full meaning of the word.”

 **I have mentioned that wars and such were started for less.** Death nods. **I just find the way that you have carved a slightly different path then fate had already decided to be most interesting. I have told Riddle before but Holly and Yew are bound to tragedies some of the saddest of our times and some older. Some are not truly to be happy till the life beyond. It fascinates me that you wish to try, that you wish to struggle and carry on. Perhaps in another time and place this would have all been avoided.**

“I suppose that is what it means to truly care for someone.” Harry feels a strange set of calm fall over him. “You fight and you press on. If it is meant to be then it is worth fighting for. Tom knows my darkness and I know his. Even if we are not perfect, far from it. I think that seeing it all through, trying to be the best that we can be, despite it all and bringing together those broken pieces is all that matters.” 

**I do suppose that there is never a time or place for true love, then. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment where one is completely vulnerable or gradually like the erosion of the greatest of banks. Very well you have convinced me, that there is need for you to go back.**

Death pats him lightly on his head ruffling his hair with the touch that might be similar to that of a passing breeze. **This will take a while and you are better off seeming dead for the duration of it. I am going to place you in a state of near-death, as I doubt that if you stood up right now or moved that this would end too well for you. Think Romeo and Juliet, where lovely Jully was thought to be dead and slept nicely through her funeral and even her own love stabbing himself.**

Harry winces. “Would prefer not to sleep through Tom’s arrival and duel. I have a very bad feeling that if he thinks that I am dead for good that he will do something very foolish, before I wake.” 

**Then I will strive to finish before he has himself a mini heart attack.** Death sounds slightly amused, before becoming serious again. **Though I make no promises on how fast I can accomplish such a task. It would be very unwise for me not to make the proper repairs or rush them. Do understand that fixing a brain is not the easiest thing to accomplish. It would be preferable that all your organs were turning to liquid like the last time.**

Liquid organs was not something Harry would ever want the mental image of again. “I understand.” He acknowledges the beings need to be careful and the care that it would no doubt take to accomplish such a thing. 

**Good.** Death nods to him. **Stay in my home.**

The garden opens up around them, the small house that Death lives in becomes viable and Harry steps into the familiar place. There is a person there that he has not seen before. They look to be a mixture of an animal and human. The jackal like head makes it impossible not to know the one that stands before him. Anubis, there is a very feminine look to what would have been considered to be the Egyptian God even if there is nothing but a figure to suggest it as the head doesn’t give any suggestions. 

“It is nice to meet my friend's boss.” The being smiles and there are sharper teeth that glitter in the lighting. “I shall make sure that you are entertained for your stay here. It very well could be a while.” 

**Be kind to him, none of the usual games.** Death warns, before turning to Harry. **Do watch out for her, she likes to puzzle out a person’s worth and measure it to that of a metaphorical feather of true self and truest of deeds.**

“I do so love challenges.” The jackal smiles, he can now see the glow to her golden eyes and the mirth. “What do you say, dear Master of my Master and friend, care to have tea and see how your soul measures up by the deeds that you have done?”

She twists her fingers and a beautiful white feather, that almost sparkles with both magic and something else he can feel but can not name. 

“If there are no consequences to not measuring up.” Harry decides to sit across from where the woman at one point was sitting. It seems like she wants to play this game, and he sees no harm in humoring her while he kills time. 

“For you, none, for I can tell that Al Mawt cares for you.” She smiles slyly. 

Death shakes his head. **Only you may call me that name.”**

“But of course.” She chuckles and it is a deep rumble, Harry is not sure exactly what he is missing in the exchange but on that note, Death leaves them.

“Now wearer of my amulet, tell me your truest most perceived good deeds. What is your truth?” 

~/*\~

Tom and Severus follow the doe, it is not nearly as simple of a task as one would think. It moves quickly with power and magical finesse. It almost glides with its long-running strides and waits for them after a certain distance. It is as if they are traveling between worlds following it, through a vapor trail of magic and the rising of the sun. They are moving through the waves of light that the projection leads them through. It is as if moving through warmth itself and calm to a location. There is fear of what could happen if they should lose the doe, or the doe falters with the feelings that had created it, the good intentions and the need to save. But like the love that Severus must have felt for Lily, it is unwavering, and they reach a very memorable location. One that Tom has seen before in flashes of Harry’s nightmares. 

The Shrieking Shack. 

The doe passes unhindered through the fences and up the tall green grasses that makes up the lawn. The rising sun makes the image look lighter, fainter as if a ghost that is disappearing. The building itself looks all that more twisted and the shadows elongated. The doe vanishes in front of the entrance with one last look at them. 

It is an odd calm that settles upon Tom after the few steps that he takes forward to the fence. It is as if he is no longer scared for himself should he pass through the gates and towards what could be his end. It is like he has passed that feeling of terror as it has become almost calm, the way that his heart rate rises to meet it. The wind caresses his hair, pulling him towards what might be the last battle that he is to fight. His wand, his true wand is in his hand and he can feel Severus look at him, with questioning eyes. Tom breathes in the fresh air, and steps through the gate, he feels the wetness of the morning dew against his pant leg, he feels the slight heat of the morning sun’s rays.

He feels in this moment more alive than he has since the night that he had danced with Harry. He can see his perfect smile, the way that his black hair cups his face, and the wild eyes that look at him as if he is from another world like he wants him to be there just as much as Tom wants to be in that moment. He feels their kiss, and the colors of red that are associated with that wonderful warm feeling in his chest to that of the sky, that seems to glow with red, orange, and gold.

The greatest villain, after all, was not Death, not by a long shot but rather fear, paralyzing fear, it killed a person before they even had the chance to die, as one simply stopped living due to a fear of dying. His fear of Death had taken everything from him, it would not do so again. He would face it, for a chance to be whole again, to be loved, perhaps learn what that word meant for himself and feel it. He feels like he is older and yet younger as he reaches closer to the house. 

There was not enough time to live, live meaningfully. He wanted more happy simple moments; he had wasted his old life in pursuit of things that were trivial in the long run, never made him happy, always left him feeling hollow, and still searching. Yes, he is an old soul in a younger man’s body. Whose core is not what it needs to be, where he has not had enough time and wishes for more of it. Wishes that he was anything but as selfish as he has been. And he wonders just for the briefest of moments if this was the acceptance that Harry felt when he went to face him in the woods, the twisted cowardly version of himself that had become nothing but a monster. The reassurance that Death is a friendly entity at the very least that waits for him. The knowledge that the only thing that matters is keeping someone he cares for alive. How he can not fail in this endeavor because once he knows that he is doing something for completely the right reasons. Good can never truly lose, it wins the long run even if resting is the price to pay. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were to leave now Severus.” Tom looks towards who might at one time have been his best follower, but had lost everything in doing so. He looks at a person who he had helped drag down his demented path. Where both their faults had led to Harry being parentless and long time down the way here in this house, facing whatever horror that Albus had placed him through.

“I am not going to leave, I left too many things alone before because I was fearful.” Severus raises his wand hand. “I shall not do so again.” 

A small smile finds itself on the former Dark Lord’s face. “Shall we then?” He raises his wand and the wooden door splinters and Severus puts up a shield for both of them. The dust almost acts like a smokescreen, but he can see in the very far back Harry slumped in a chair and Dumbledore standing near him, his wand going from Harry to training on them. 

Tom can see Death standing by Harry, though no one else he feels can see him. His hands are around Harry’s head and he seems to be doing something, of what Tom can not guess but he hopes that it is keeping Harry from passing from this world.

“Tom and Severus.” Albus greets with a tone that shows that he had certainly not expected anyone to find them or at least so soon. 

“What did you do to him, Albus?” Severus cuts him off. 

“I…” Dumbledore doesn't even get to finish that sentence because Severus fired a killing curse off with a speed that Tom can only blink at. The geezer moves quickly to the side and the green curse hits the back wall sending another wave of dust up and Albus hurls his own knockback spell that sends the old table at them. 

“Avada?” Tom questions loudly over the sound of the table crushing and the chairs being lofted and hurled next all but the one that Harry is attached to. 

“He isn’t breathing,” Severus yells over the noise, you killed him, Albus. You killed the chosen one, by digging in his head didn’t you, just like you tried to do to me.” 

Something that might have been a vase shatters as more and more of the remaining furniture is slammed into things. Tom has to block a few of them and blast another couple to keep from being bashed into. 

“I am going to kill you for Lily, and the countless others that died because of your cause.” Severus roars next to him, giving in to his temper that Tom has seen on a few occasions. 

Harry can’t die but the idea that his brain is scattered, that he is just laying there no better than a possible coma patent or possibly have been forced to forget him infuriates him to no end. That cold horrid cold comes with it. As his mind gives him the worst ideas about how they could never have a real conversation again, that their time was wasted, short, and never went as far as it could have with a few more months, years, even. He can’t feel their bond, it's not responsive. He should be close enough just to catch the trace of it. But it’s faded out and Death still stands by Harry holding his head as if trying to keep him together. 

He feels the shards in the locket shift, but he ignores them. Closes himself off to all regrets that he has and instead just lets the red enter his vision, lets it burn so hot that he can’t feel that seeping cold. Tom hurls the killing curse and then another and another sending Albus for cover between the rooms. 

“If you wanted to fight me there were better ways to have done it. You don't have to get him involved.” 

Things crack and scatter around Tom as his own magic flairs up in response to his own anger. The black magic that he always holds back, comes ripping forward. Raw uncontrollable magic that has no purpose but to destroy. “If you want a Dark Lord I will show you one, as I tear you apart piece by piece.” 

He is very good at being a Monster… if that was what Dumbledore wanted then that was what he would receive. Tom would show him just how horrible that he could be. Even with an unbeatable wand, Tom would win, even if he had to decimate the house and kill everyone inside of it including himself he would do it. He still has enough shards to come back to finish the job if he has to, insane or not. Harry would be avenged, they both would be. Eternity after this of misery would at least have some sort of comfort. 

~/*\~

The house shakes and Harry holds tightly onto his teacup as the pink liquid near bounces out of it. Anubis just tilts her head to the side and watches with him as the lights to the place flicker and the hanging candler shakes viciously back and forward. The only sound is the clicking together of its crystals. The house looks almost transparent in places there were supposed to be windows. 

“Why is it acting this way?” Harry can not help but feel a little unnerved. 

“It does this when Death as you call him loses some concentration, as his magic is focused elsewhere.” Anubis takes another sip of her Tea. “He must really be trying to patch you up based on circumstances. I wonder just how scattered your mind really was, how many fractures had been created that he needs to smooth over. Please let us continue our game.” 

The feather floats near her, and its white beauty becomes slightly stained and gray towards the tip of it. Harry tries not to watch the way that it changes. It feels like they have been playing as she puts it for a very long time, her asking what could be considered modern things that transitioned to things that were of a more serious nature. Nothing had ever felt too personal to tell her, it actually was nice to talk to someone about it all. He hardly had enough people that could know everything. The being was very understanding, but considering that she was probably over thousands of years old, it would make sense that nothing really would be surprised by that point. She seems more human than Death, and it is probably because she at one point was alive. 

“You are worried.” She sets her tea down. “Not to worry, time is irrelevant here.”

“But it is relevant where I come from.” Harry pointed out, it could almost for certain be critical depending on if Tom had figured out where to go by now. 

The house shakes again. 

“It matters not when you come here, minutes or hours seeming here can be nothing in the real world. He can return you whenever it is that he is done and you will have not aged, not changed, and should be in time for what really matters.” 

Even as she says this he is not at all calm. 

“I just want Tom to be alright.” Harry sighs. “He has been doing so well, and it would be meaningless if he were to die now of all times. I don’t wish to start over, if he were to die, could Morte do anything about it, as he is not a complete soul and there are still theaters in the living world.” 

“Morte can do many things. But even his powers are limited by the laws of the universe. He has already bent some of the rules for you.” Anubis taps her chin. “For instance he has conversed with Riddle outside of his mortal guises, even going as far as to meet with him alone when his last two shards were mended. He has taken a liking to him I like to think.”

“So he could help him then?” Harry is hopeful for that. 

“There are limitations, surely you understand. The bending of the rule was possible as part of Tom’s soul is very tangled up in yours, one could say that it almost is fused with your own into one very unique soul. It is why no matter the great good you do, you will still fail my task, as there is a very rotten part still residing in you. Not that I do not think you are a very wonderful soul dear.” She smiles pleasantly. “But I digress.” The feather catches fire as it falls into the palm of her hand. “I think he has been counting you both as one entity. Bending it so that he may converse in his more comfortable form with the both of you. He however can not interfere greatly with the land of the living, for instance, he can not take a life he is not yet meant to take.” 

“So that's why he did not help me verse Dumbledore.”

“Yes and no, you forgot one important thing.” She holds up a clawed finger and points it at him. “You forgot to ask.” 

~/*\~

The house is a blaze of spells. It warms and thickens the air and charges it with magic that tingles like electricity down his spine. Severus knows that by the end of this there will be a number of corpses. That number has yet to be decided. It is not a battle that they are winning, no one is. 

Marvolo looks exhausted, as he keeps shielding, bracing, and letting off another barrage of spells. Severus has done his damnedest to help provide cover fire for the other, but it is clear that either they have to make a very hard push and overtake the old man or they are going to lose. There is just too much knowledge and skill, with unknown magic and spells that his once employer has over the situation. Raw power and strength is one thing that Marvolo has in spades, he uses curses and hexes that Severus has never heard of with amazing timing and accuracy. He seems so much older than 16 at the moment. But it is nothing compared to the power of Albus.

Marvolo seems to understand that the battle can not last much longer, and ducks down to take a breather behind what remains of a larger piano. He is puffing and bleeding and Severus crouches and moves closer so that he can try and put a stop to it. He takes one look at the arm and fears for nerve damage the way that it has been sliced deeply, the gash is bubbling up with blood, that is near black in the lighting. Gaunt, bits his lip hard as Severus runs his robe sleeve over the top of it to get a better look past all the blood. There is a lot of torn muscle, and there is the small sight of bone. He has to fix this fast. He brought some of his potions with him. He pulls one out and unshrinks it. 

Marvolo hisses as Severus dumps one of his potions over the deep wounded limp arm and helps it to knit itself back together. He even tries to pull away as he holds tightly onto it muttering spells that will help put it back to useable enough shape. Albus seems to have taken the cease-fire as a chance to try and talk. 

“You have seen what he knows Severus, surely you are not foolish enough to believe that he is who he says that he is.” 

Severus looks into the brown eyes that are looking at him. The eyes of someone that had offered to send him home, so that he didn’t have to fight. And he knows that there is no way that this scared teen by his facial expression alone is that of Voldemort. It's human and it's the grieving, hurt, face of someone that has lost everything. It is almost like looking in a mirror, as those brown eyes blink and look away, fingers tightening on their wand ready to shield if necessary. His bad arm is limp at his side, no longer bleeding but definitely damaged. 

“You killed Lily’s son, he could be the Darkest upcoming Lord there was and I would side with him to put an end to you.” He dares to look up and he can see that Albus is yet again disappointed in him. But at this point, Severus only wants to blast that look off of his face. 

How dare he look at him like that, when he had killed a child, a child of 14.

“Harry was one of his Horcruxes. He can tell you otherwise but that is the reason that he cares so much for the boy. He had to be destroyed. I wish that it was not so.”

Marvolo lets out a very soft breath, before crouching to make a move to stand again. “You know nothing.” 

Severus as he watches yet another spell be blasted out the tip of the all too familiar wand can not help but agree. 

~/*\~

Harry saved him, he had no reason to. He had no reason to help him, and he did. If Dumbledore even looked in his mind he would know how selfless Harry is… was… and if he really managed to kill him, destroy their bond. Then there was nothing that really served as a reason to mend the rest. There was one piece already in purgatory permanently damning the both of them. 

“I am taking you with me to hell.” Tom dodged the first of the red spells that were aimed at him. He dodged the second, the slicing spell getting a good chunk of the red robe of the old Wizard. He dives, dips, dances, as the magic fizzles around them, moving closer and to the perhaps end. It's fast, twisting, and he can feel the heat of it. 

Blood dribbles down his robe, and he slices Dumbledore’s leg. 

He hardly feels the pain.

He refuses to misstep again. 

Things wiz by and puff out, until there is nothing that stands between the two Wizards. The final chord is struck as he fails to counter a hex and he shuts his eyes expectantly, but it never hits him. And he opens them, the warm blood of another against his face. 

His eyes widen as Severus promptly staggers forward a few steps and then crumples to the ground. Blood pouring from the horrid gash at his side. Tom quickly recovers or attempts to, having quite a few spells sing his robe, and he can feel the burn across his cheek. He manages to shatter the moon spectacles before he is hit in the chest with a stunner that takes all the air out of him. He lays on his side, sucking in air as there does not ever seem to be enough of it to enter his lungs as feet get closer to him. He can not move, no matter how he wills it. He is spent anyway. He had pushed past what he should have, even before the second real barrage of spells. 

He takes in a very deep breath, he can hear soft whispers that he always hears when Death is far too close to him. And Dumbledore is thrown back, through a wall. 

“My head fucking hurts.” That voice…

Harry smiles a little at him as he releases him from the bind that he is being held under. Harry winces as he does this holding his head. “There you go, Tom.” 

“How…” Severus chokes. “How?” 

Harry looks over at him and goes nearly white. Death has moved from his place in the corner over to where his old follower and a friend of Harry’s lays. He can see the horror dancing across Harry’s face, the blood is pooling and it looks very bad. The flesh is torn and muscles have been ripped, peeled almost back, and even if there is no bone showing, it feels like nothing short of a miracle that nothing organ-like seems to have been struck. 

“I am going to burn the wound closed.” Harry ignores the question. He looks quite sick as he moves closer, “I won’t let you die again.”

Yes, that was right. Harry had said that Severus died once in the shrieking shack. This could not have been easy to relive and Tom feels a soft ache that is not by the bond at the thought of it. 

“Again…” Severus might be heading into shock, with the way that he is holding onto himself, trembling, and pale. 

Harry just nods, perhaps he doesn’t realize that he is saying things out loud. “Yes, Severus died here the last time. Except it was Voldemort that killed him over a wand. A wand that I have to fight now. I don’t even know how to win against it. Dumbledore will be up any minute.” Harry is muttering as he moves very ungracefully about his task, at least Severus might survive this and it is indeed confirmed that Harry is having a hard time knowing if he is saying something out loud or just in his head. 

Tom looks away as Severus starts to scream, it's not something that he wants to watch and Harry's inability to keep things in his head is not a good sign and certainly not the best thing to happen when secrets needed to stay hidden. Tom slowly pushes onto his feet. He still feels like he is drained and run over, but Harry is right. Dumbledore could come crawling back any second. Tom makes sure that he has his wand pointed at the hole, even though he is not sure how useful he will be, or if he can really cast anything that could be damaging or helpful. Harry helps to lean Severus out of harm's way and then rubs at his eyes with the hand that does not have a death grip on his head.

“I really wish that you could influence the living a bit more.” 

Death almost seems to smile at that as he steps a little away from Severus as it seems that Harry has extended the time the potions Master has to live, for the time being. 

Harry moves to stand next to him, his hand dropping from his head and holding onto his for a second squeezing it. “Let's finish this, I really want to go home.”

Tom almost manages to laugh at that even with his chest still aching, and his feet slightly unsteady underneath him. He wants that very much. “Yes, let’s end it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that it took so long. I have been taking time off because of my hands, and probably will be taking a bit more time off for them in the near future. My arthritis has been very painful lately, and it has made writing difficult as I usually like to plow through my ideas, and I have had a lot of stop and go by the pain of it. Work has been taking that sort of toll on me...unfortunately. I will keep writing in snippets until I can get the next few chapters out. I have no intention of leaving this story half-finished. It just might take a bit longer than expected.
> 
> Many thanks for your patience and I will see you all hopefully soon.
> 
> Dawn


	20. Therapeutic Tricksters with Whiskers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry deal with life after the fact they are no longer in direct fear of losing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends, it's so wonderful to be back!

The morning sun burns as he opens his eyes. It feels like his eyes should be glued shut at this point. He rolls over feeling his ears flop against this face. He licks his dry lips and lets out a grunt as he moves to get up. Remus is still asleep, his clothes torn and ratty from his last night adventure. Sirius is stiff and tired from running about the apartment and barking and howling with Lupin. The silencing charms really must have worked wonders because he is sure they destroyed all that was in the few rooms that they had locked themselves in. He slowly shifts back feeling paws slowly form fingers that he wiggles. 

He needs coffee, he scratches feeling his old bones popping. God, he was what age now? 36, right. He felt older, maybe that was what happened with worries about your Godson and his boyfriend, that they will not admit they are dating, are little magnets for trouble. With Dumbledore breathing down all their necks ready to kick start another war. He is surprised that he has not sprouted any gray hairs yet. 

He fills the coffee maker with the necessary powders, slightly marveling on how convent muggles made things without Magic. As he waits he gathers up some of the mail, the prophet and a few other papers are sitting on the ledge. The owl does not look happy with him, but then it's just a bird and he could be giving it unneeded characteristics as the feathers over its eyes look like tiny narrowed eyebrows. He gives the thing a treat for its trouble. 

He takes down a cup and pours some black coffee into the cup near choking at the front page of the paper with the bold words.  
_______________

LORD POTTER MISSING, LEAVES LORD GAUNT DISTRAUGHT

 _By Rita Skeeter._  
______________

Because of course it was written by that heinous woman. He could have sworn that Harry was suing her. Maybe this was her last shot to take before her reputation was destroyed. He looks over at the handwritten note from Marvolo that is in the small stack. It sounds frantic and looks like a madman had written it. It was such a contrast to his seemingly well-practiced print. Which doesn’t help Sirius’s feelings about the whole situation. There is another addressed from the Weasleys to Remus about the Order and the reach out for help that Tom must have sent them as well. The boy really must have been desperate to consider help from strangers. Sirius knows well enough that Tom doesn't trust anyone but himself and possibly Harry.

‘Way to go, you jinxed it with last night's conversation’ He berates himself. 

“Remus!” He rushes back to the living room space. Coffee long forgotten about. He all but thrusts the paper into Remus’s tired face. “Wake up, Harry and Marvolo are definitely in trouble.” 

~/*\~

Harry takes a tentative step forward after letting go of Tom’s hand. He is bleeding, but it is nothing that is life-threatening and cannot be taken care of when the task that needs to be completed is done. He knows that such a spell to knock the other back most likely is not enough to end it all. The other could be hiding in the room just past this one. The walls, after all, were rotten out and it didn’t take much to break them. 

He is just lucky that Albus was stupid enough to leave his wand close enough that he could use it after he freed himself. He puts up a shield as he forces his way through the opening. Tom takes the hall and to the room the opposite way, trapping Albus inside. There was no way to apparate past the wards. 

He thrusts his wand in first and then the rest of himself. His head's still spinning, and he feels very nauseous because of the pressure that is still there. He is no longer cracking and falling apart so it is worth it. 

Albus is leaning against the brick chimney that is probably the only sturdy structure left in the place. His face is cut badly from where the spectacles must have shattered on his face. He looks more deranged this way with his long, usually seemingly perfect hair in a frenzy, sticking every which way. Even his beard had come undone, just as much as the old man’s mind had. 

Harry can not help but feel sorry for him, all things considering they had definitely helped in creating this lunatic from the former great Wizard or expedited it... 

“It's over Dumbledore.” Harry beseeches. “You have lost, lay down your wand.” The afterthought comes bubbling out anyway. “Please for once lay down the bloody thing.”

Dumbledore's eyes narrow at him trying to see with his glasses gone. “How is it that you are still alive?”

“That’s not important.” Harry cuts it off trying to keep his scrambled mind on task so that he doesn’t spill anything that he doesn’t want out there. “What is important is that this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Tom growls. “I would like nothing better than to Avada him right here and now.” 

Harry glances at Tom. He looks ready to kill again, seems to really want it. His heart sinks. “There are better ways Tom.” 

“He knows too much and he will never leave us alone. I told you this before.” Tom growls at him. “He could have killed you, he almost took you away from me.” 

Dumbledore attempts to lift his wand and Harry hits him with a stunner, it takes the other by surprise because perhaps he thought that Harry wasn’t paying attention. Harry though has a feeling that the only reason that it seems strong enough is because he had been battling Tom and Severus for such a long time. Or despite after everything that he still dares to underestimate Harry. He then makes sure that the next one knocks him clean out, and out for what will be for certain a few hours. 

Harry steps in front of the old man as Tom makes a move to cast a partially dark hex. He can feel it, with the way that his hairs stand up. “I know that he is a threat to us, but I can’t allow you to kill him.” 

“Harry step aside, for once lay down your ridiculous moral compass and allow me to keep us both safe.” Tom moves forward. “You don’t even have to dirty your hands with it. It will all be my doing.” 

Harry takes another step forward, Tom does as well and Harry puts his wand down and hugs the other. Just holds him so that he can not lift his wand. “Don’t dirty your soul with another murder, don’t tear it again.” 

He can not help but think about the warnings that Anubis had given him last. He knows what lies in wait for Tom should he fix his soul, and not try to repay the damage in full. If he still thought himself burdened and unredeemable. Especially if he took the feather challenge by Anubis. He would fail. Harry had some gray to his soul that wasn’t on account of Tom. 

“I have no intention to make a Horcrux ever again Harry.” Tom’s voice rumbles through his chest. He does not hold him back, but he can feel his heart beating, he can feel the way that Tom’s breath is leaving him. He looks up at his face and reaches up a hand slowly to rub against the blood and the dirt. He looks awful and Harry is sure that he doesn’t look much better. Tom doesn’t flinch by his hold. Just looks down at him with something that is not nameable. 

“I know, but murder is an act that still damages it, you don’t have to kill him, Tom.” Harry blurts it. He wants him to understand. He desperately wants that. For once, he wants Tom to listen to him, trust him on something. Tom takes in a very deep breath and leans into Harry’s hand wrapping his own thin fingers around Harry’s wrist and closes his eyes. 

“What would you have us do then? Let him live with all the damage that he has caused?” His brown eyes open again and there is that tint of red that bleeds into them when he is particularly emotionally turbulent. “He knows our secrets, he will not stop no matter where we hide or place him.” 

Tom kisses his wrist letting it go in favor of pulling Harry back to being very close to him. “I want nothing more to enact revenge on him for all that he has done to you, what he has done to others.” Tom’s dirty face buries itself in his hair, his fingers curling into the back of his head and into his hair. He still holds his wand though it is a bit limper in hand. 

“There is an old saying.” Harry smiles. “The best revenge is to be unlike the one who performed the injury. Anger, resentment, and jealousy doesn't change the heart of others, it only changes yours. I think it stands well in our story. I want to free you from those emotions and path. They tore you apart before, and to kill again would just place you back onto it.” 

“You have had the ultimate revenge then.” Tom sighs deeply, “for you are far from the monster that I could have turned you into.” 

“Some days I thought that it would be easier.” Harry laughs without warmth. 

“I think you could have been a great Dark Lord in your own right.” Tom agrees softly. “It's amazing that you didn’t. I still want to kill him, as I am not like you. My instincts tell me that it's the right choice.”

“And your heart?” Harry asked.

“It would revel in the feeling that cutting him open and exposing all of his organs to sunlight would allow. I do though know that this would not please you, and so there is a bit of a conflicting feeling languishing there.” He seems almost disappointed, but he is no longer as on guard as before. 

Harry can’t help but actually laugh at that for as stupid as that is. It just bubbles out of him. “I think you will like what I have in mind, perhaps not as much as you would just killing him viciously, but it is a good solution.” 

“I’m listening.”

“I am going to obliviate him, he will not remember anything from this day or before his defeat of Grindelwald. He will have no personal interest in either of us, no reason to suspect anything differently, and I will destroy all his memories that he keeps for his pensive. I will take what he intended to take from Severus and myself, our memories, and our minds.” 

Tom is silent.

“Is that satisfactory?” Harry asks hesitantly, near ready to have to find another solution. Only to be kissed roughly on the lips as Tom has disregarded injury and wand in favor to kiss him harshly and steal his breath and words away. Holding tight to his wrists, and curling their hands together, in a move that is both exhilarating with the rush of hormones reaching his brain but also exhausting possessiveness.

“I love your mind sometimes.” Tom whispers against his lips, “it is twisted even if the end result is for a perceivable good.” 

Harry sighs deeply relieved. 

~/*\~

They take care of Dumbledore and take him back to the room that Severus is still in. Tom looks at him with feelings that he can not exactly place. Severus is looking at them like they are some made-up creature like Nargles or something else that Harry has mentioned in passing. Tom before this thing called a heart was placed back into his chest he wouldn’t see what needed to perhaps happen as more than just a loss of an asset, and he would have slight regret as he killed the other. He wondered if his old self even felt anything when he sent the snake forward. Things though had changed, Severus had been actually trying to help Tom save Harry. He had been in correspondence with Sirius to try and make sure what had happened didn’t. Yes, he had failed but without him, Tom wouldn’t have been able to have reached Harry. 

Death had decided to sit at the only remaining chair that there was. **What are you planning to do with dear Snape?** The skeleton of shadow tilts his head and motions to the person that can not see him, or perhaps Severus can, or at least feel him because he shivers. He needs medical attention certainly if they want to keep him alive for more than the present. 

“His mind is a bit damaged to try and erase parts of it.” Harry sighs. “So I suppose the only option is a magically binding contract not to speak about the things that were just sort of falling out my mouth.” 

**I did say that it would be jarring did I not?**

Severus looks about but it is clear now that he can not tell where the voice is coming from, or if he can understand it, just what Harry is putting out there. 

“Oh you did, and my head is still feeling like it’s under a vice.” Harry nods, “and it almost feels like the pounding moves to a different place.”

“A vow then.” Tom agrees easily to that. “What do you say, Severus, would you prefer that and your life over the alternative?” 

“We are not killing him.” Harry snipped “If we didn’t kill the coot, we’re not killing him.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest murder dear. I was going to say brain alteration which as you pointed out would probably end poorly for Severus.” Tom looks at him innocently enough, but the message is clear as day. 

Severus even with how out of it he seems is able to nod. “If you explain how you are still alive…” 

“Excellent.” Tom is not at all bothered by the slurred response, taking full advantage of making a deal. He had better control of the outcome that way. It would be nice actually to have someone else to talk to that knew the whole story, even if they were probably going to feel very roped into it. He is pretty sure that Severus will let him talk with him, considering he was a decent follower and could no doubt see the positive influence that Harry has on him. He just might not enjoy the action.

Harry serves as the witness to the vow and Tom watches the unbreakable be cast. This secret is not something that he wants anyone else to know. He makes it a cost of magic and then life if the secret is revealed. There can be none that see him as anything other than Marvolo Tomas Gaunt, it puts himself at risk and of course Harry. Dumbledore wouldn’t be the last person that attempted to kill them or get back at them some other horrid way if they knew. 

~/*\~

Storytime has to wait until after the Ministry and healing could be done. Harry is competent enough of one to pass the necessary first aid needed to save a life, but he is not qualified to deal with the burnt flesh that he had created in order to do more than stop the bleeding. But after there is nothing stopping him from doing so, Tom does with Harry in a closed-off, muted space in a Muggle cafe talk about who exactly he is. And the story behind both of them. 

Severus doesn’t say much through the interaction, Tom honestly did not expect him too. And while he made a Vow not to attack them over it and share this information. He can tell that Severus is extremely uncomfortable with the knowledge. It is like he is deciding whether he should be angry, saddened, vengeful, or relieved. It flashes so quickly across his face and dances in his eyes. It’s not exactly something that is easy to accept especially with Death dropping into the picture to help answer some other questions that Severus has. 

Severus asked only one follow up question after it had all been settled. He asked how Lily was. It hits him even after they are ambushed by the Order members that just received Harry’s replies to the letters and location where they could be found. The cover was that Tom and Severus came to his rescue. It had to stay that way too, for all their sakes. Sirius and Remus had led the charge and a handful of others ready to just tell Harry how glad that they are that he is safe, and of course Tom. 

He never had been so crushed by a hug before. Never have people that cared what happened to him. Sirius had been very worried about him. They end up being dragged to the Burrow for food, catching up, and safe downtime for Sirius’s properties were being swarmed by reporters. All of the pests wanting to get a small peek at them, know how they are feeling, and gain any other personal statements. 

Tom could have been using this mess to push his agendas, running the man that now was in a hospital bed somewhere in the loony section of St. Mungos even further into the ground, but he isn’t. He could have protested harder that they just go home but he is letting himself be swept up by this whatever it is. These fleeting moments. He is not even trying to use any of it to his advantage. No, he is sitting very still at a table with tea in front of him trying to understand why his chest aches so badly, even though he still has Harry and there is no evidence that the other is going to leave him, or is upset at him in any way. 

However Severus’s question still stood. “How is Lily?” It replays over and over. How it must feel to lose someone that you loved. How it must have felt to know that you would never be able to see them again. Never hold them, never experience the good and bad that came with them. It could happen someday to him and Harry regardless of the method and it sits with him. It settles deep inside him and grips its icy fingers around his remaining heart. 

Lily is Harry’s mother.

Lily is the only woman that Snape ever loved. 

Lily is the wife of James, Sirius’s best friend. 

Lily was one of the few kind souls to Remus.

Lily was the woman that begged him to spare her son, was brave, and willing to give herself for Harry. 

And Tom had killed her. He had hit her with the killing curse and heard her scream. She hadn’t even been on the front lines of the war. She had been just a woman, married to the man that had been on the front. She tended wounds, kept moral, and gave counsel. And he had killed her. Brought the war to her doorstep and murdered her in cold blood. Harry can try and excuse it that she was his enemy, that it was Peter that deserved the hate for the action, but Tom is pretty sure that it is the only way that he can handle caring about him, loving him even. Tom though can not really justify it, not really. His belief in prophecies had led to his downfall like a self-fulling one. 

Yet it was what landed him here. Here to Harry and perhaps a chance at something normal. 

Tom wants to regret what he has done. He wants to summon some real remorse for his actions. Repair his soul and complete his promise to Harry. As he sits with Remus, Sirius, and the others at a table, breaks bread with them, he can not help but wish for it, because he can’t mount much of a feeling for it. They were once his enemy’s and yet they are the kindest of people to him. They do not pity him, except maybe Molly. She has those soft eyes of any mother he has ever met that heard he was orphaned, even if his father was supposed to be evil incarnate. There is some awful gut crushing guilt that seeps into him. Harry is taken back to times, good times. He just avoids talking to Ginny. With all things that have happened considered, it makes perfect sense. He is friendly with her but Tom can still see that longing, that pain that masks so well behind half-smiles. It is because of his soul shard that they could not be happy, it is his fault. Most things could trickle down to being his fault. 

The red on his hands is thick, coated, and smears no matter how he tries to rinse it off. He hates that he can feel, it would be better to be selfish, forget it all, and be happy that he has won Harry’s heart. He has him and all of his love there is that can be given. And yet, the gift that usually makes him feel so warm, so whole. Almost rings hollow. Hollow for he despite everything is selfish and knows that should he fully regret what he has done, that Harry will be free of him. He doesn’t know what that means for them. If Harry would be able to forget him, move past him, as Tom has taken away a very powerful motivation for the both of them to be together. 

Harry is his fail-safe, as long as Harry has a shard in him, Tom was immortal and free to spend eternity with Harry. Harry that has not had to dirty his soul and will never have to, to live past what should have been possible. It had always been comforting and it still is in a way. But he knows that Harry wants more than anything to be free of his soul shards and so despite the victory that they are supposedly celebrating, as in they are all safe enough. He just can not manage more than a very fake and more than forced smile. 

Even as Molly makes the best of desert, they talk, and he even plays a game of Wizard Chess against a boy that at one point had been Harry’s best friend in another life another time; even when he is starting to relax and almost enjoy himself. He knows how the simplest of knowledge would change the situation. 

I am Lord Voldemort. 

It’s a simple sentence that has soured Severus to the thought of him. Before they had almost seemed friendly to one another. It was a sentence that would destroy everything but Harry’s love for him. For the first time in a very long time, he curses having been put back together enough to understand this fact and the new worry that comes with the relationships he has started to form with people around him. 

~/*\~

One vow and informing of the Ministry later and being forced healed with potions and whatever else. Severus Snape finds himself sitting at Molly Wheasys kitchen table. Exhausted, and internally numb. It was not a place that he had ever intended to end up at. He had been ready to slip off to process all of the things that had been thrown at him in a span of less than 48 hours. He still is ready, but not until he has rested just a tad from it all. Sitting feels like a lifeline at the moment. He had expected to have to tamper with the crime scene, but not that Harry would be so very good at it nor that Voldemort would assist him in the endeavor. Severus had never seen someone that had so many burner wands before, but then he hadn’t ever heard of a more strange and crazy story than that of what he has been told. 

He wishes it was a joke, a ruse. It would have been far from funny, but it would at least have been a positive to have the old ‘got yah’. ‘I slowed my heart rate, Albus never killed me. Marvolo is not Tom Riddle. Marvolo is just a good replica of his father, but without a lot of the madness.’ But that was not the case. Not with the vow that he had taken. He feels like this is all a horrible dream that his concussed head has come up with and any second now he will wake from a coma of sorts and everything will make sense in the world again. But he can not deny that there are things that have now slid into place that are uncomfortable to think about. 

Harry Potter is 32 trapped in the body of a 14-year-old and was more than capable of controlling a Dark Lord. He was a necromancer that brought things back from the dead, and the master of Death himself. Such a force, should not have had a physical body, there shouldn’t have been an entity at all. It's hard to even think about it. Death walking among people and having strange conversations with them. Harry has been taking aging potions which means James look-alike is Harry. Quirrell had never been in on the disappearance or anything of shady activity. The skill in handling the press, and holding all the conversations that he did made sense now, as he wasn’t just a child genius. Neither was Marvolo, they were never captured by Death Eaters. Harry was gathering parts to perform a resurrection. With it all there on the table, with death staring at him in the face, it had prompted him to ask about Lily. He wondered about the afterlife, and it was a one in a million chances. He just wanted to know if she had ended up somewhere that was peaceful, somewhere nice. He had always hoped for it, and in the moment that he had asked he had been fearful of the very answer that could have been given to him. What the knowledge would have done to him if she had passed into something horrible. 

Death though had become serious and not as light-hearted as he had been in that moment. He had looked Severus in the face and smiled kindly at him, with a human enough face that reminded him of an older version of Draco as he had taken the form of a young blond man with silver eyes. 

`` She is in the land of the remembered as well as many that have left this life. She is there with her parents, her friends, her husband, and she waits for the time where she will have more of the people she loves join her. Yourself, Harry, among others. Do not blame yourself for the spiral that has been brought about by fate and mistakes. For the dead can not be brought back, nor are they as judgemental as you think.`` 

He was content enough with that. He supposed that he had thought himself unredeemable, but if she was waiting for him as a friend. It was more than he could ever hope for. He wondered if she was okay with her son's chosen partner. He can not help himself but worry. Even if Voldemort had been laid to rest, there was a walking version of him. It might have been more sane, more caring than before, but it all hinged on Harry and he worried about that particular outcome. 

Sirius sits across from him, sliding out the old wooden chair with absolutely no grace and so it makes a loud scraping sound across the floor. 

“I would ask you if you were alright, but I feel that you would point out asking such a thing is foolish, when you obviously aren’t.” His old bully, turned into something that is as close to a friend that Severus has had in a long time smiles at him slightly. “I suppose that something more intelligent as you would put it would be to ask if you need anything that I can reasonably do.” 

It almost gets him to smile yet there isn’t much that would at this point. 

“I could probably do with something stronger than tea.” Severus tilts his teacup towards him with no interest to do more than just watch the tea swirl a little bit, as he does so. The liquid doesn’t look any more appetizing.

“Ah now that is a perfectly achievable wish.” Sirius flashes what might have been to his past housemates, an award-winning wicked smile that promises nothing but trouble. “I feel though that Molly just might kill us if she thinks we have drunk too much and were setting bad examples for the kiddies.” 

He rolls his eyes and looks instead towards the ceiling. “As if that would stop you in the slightest.”

Sirius chuckles. “You would be surprised, I am trying very hard to be responsible. I have a Godson, and his shadow to look after.”

Severus' eyes sweep back to the man that's leaning against the table. 

Did he know?

No of course not, there was no way that Black would have been told and bringing up the being of Death so casually nor “Marvolo’s” real identity as if it were nothing.

“It doesn’t bother you that they are so close?” He settles with a leading question. 

“I admit they seem very young for such love.” Sirius tightens his hands around one another, as they are clasped in front of him. “But I don’t think I have ever met such connected people. They understand each other without words, without much more than glances. Does it worry me? I would be lying if I didn’t say that it didn’t.” The ex-convict shakes his head, and lets out a small breath through his nose in poor humor. “I think that looking at them gives me hope though.” 

“Hope?” Severus feels the exact opposite.

“Yes, as silly as it is. I can’t help but feel that if they can make it, despite everything that they have been through, that there is hope for love. Love can conquer even the most seeming dark of situations.” 

“Or bring the end to everything,” Severus mutters bitterly.

“You sound just like Remus.” Sirius shakes his head. “Fearful of the future, and that his compounded insecurities will stop him from having anything nice. I do think that it would be disastrous for them to fall apart, but a chance to be happy and defy the odds seems like it would be nice.” 

It does sound nice, almost too much like a dream. “I wish that I held your optimism about the situation.” Severus answered carefully. “I however don’t think that it can possibly last, and that we should be prepared for when it falls.”

“Part of helping something to succeed is to believe that it can.” Sirius shrugs standing up seemingly going to get the stronger stuff as promised. “Children need that sort of confidence that they think the important people in their lives believe in them. So until I have reason not to. I will keep believing and helping them make what seems impossible seem possible.” 

~/*\~

Harry shuts the door to the room that he and Tom will be sharing. There are two beds and all but Harry doesn’t have really any intention of sleeping on his own. He sits on the closest one to the window and watches as Tom fiddles with his hair, deciding if there was anything that would be fitting to wear or if he is just too tired to care anymore and just collapse onto the mattress. His sense of somewhat pride wins out and he drops himself next to Harry not giving in to wearing anything else handed down from the Weasleys. He lays still a moment burying his head in the fabric before turning slightly to the side and grabbing at Harry to pull him closer. 

“A galleon for your thoughts.” Harry smiles a half-smile. He is tired and just very glad to be alone with Tom again. Not that he hates seeing the Weasleys; they aren’t horrible people. He has long ago forgiven them for their part in his death. Just as he has forgiven Tom for many of his sins. He is tempted to touch Tom’s hair but decides against it resting his hand on the bedsheets instead.

“I want to go home.” Tom said plainly his voice lower with how tired he is. “Or someplace that it is the two of us and we wouldn’t be disturbed.” The last bit is a bit muffled by the blankets. 

“I feel that.’ Harry gave up on sitting and just laid back, the mattress creaking under him. “Do you think that Loki had her kittens?”

He wants to know what those little abominations would look like. He can imagine that they are soft like Loki, but with a bit slimmer build like Voldie. He wonders what someone would go about naming such things and what their personalities would be like when they started to grow. 

“She was close the last time I saw her. I was more concerned about other things.” Tom looks at him through his hair that is perhaps getting a bit long for him. 

“Sorry.” Harry does feel bad about getting caught and causing Tom’s arm to be pretty messed up. It would scar. He traces it with his finger as he now has a better look at it. Tom’s dark eyes look at him, and Harry shifts his own to look at the ceiling. 

“Don’t rush in. I told you that a hundred times.” Tom rolls over and pins him by the shoulders. “If you need a reminder look at my arm and we'll both be grateful that was all that was hit.”

Harry feels at the old white button-up shirt, his fingers brushing the tattoos that he had made. “I should be thankful that none of the runes were damaged.” Harry sighed deeply. “I don’t know what would happen if they were to be disturbed. I promise next time that we are in danger I will think.” 

“No going alone.” Tom lets go of him, “and there will be no next time.”

“We're going to get into something.” Harry chuckles softly, feeling the heat in his chest, that warm tingly feeling. 

“Yes but we can try to avoid it, some thought would help.” The locket slips out from under his shirt, and Harry moves his hand so that he is no longer touching the other. 

“I have 3 shards to go,” Tom says quietly. “I can't quite recall, though, what I need to be sorry for to absorb 2 of them back.” He lets go of him so that he can touch the locket. “I know that they reacted when I was thinking about walking to my death.”

Harry wished he could say stop being dramatic but that really was the case. It really could have been the end of the both of them, even with a safeguard Dumbeldore would have learned really quickly the way in which to stop Harry from coming back to his body. 

“You won’t die, at least not for a while.” Harry smiled kindly. “You have a life ahead of you.”

“A life with you.” Tom grips a little harder at his arm. 

“Yes.” Harry nods, “that was the plan right?”

“Even if I can not put it all back together?” Tom finds his eyes again and pins him there with them all over again. 

Harry sits up and pushes the other a little away from himself. “What brought this on?” 

He searches for something that he has missed, with Tom’s body language or their interactions after what felt like the war was over. And he comes up with nothing because perhaps he had been a little distracted.

“Forget that I said anything Harry.” Tom smiled tightly, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No, whatever it is you can tell me.” Harry doesn’t like the way that he looks ready to leave, to where Harry isn’t certain.

“Another time, just for now, can we just lay here?” 

Harry reluctantly concedes to that. He feels a bit safe laying next to the other, fingers touching, and arms woven together. Harry finds himself falling into what is a very restless sleep. He keeps getting flashes of his nightmares, and his worries manifesting themselves. He is despite not to pull Tom into one of them, so he mostly just lays there looking at the ceiling waking every now and then and trying very hard to keep his dreams towards more sunny thoughts.

He ends up going down early for tea. Molly looks at him rubbing her eyes as she notices him standing there. 

“Harry dear, what is it that you're doing?” 

“Making tea.” He shrugs. “Though I am more used to the stove at home.” 

“It’s a good wood-burning one,” Molly says a little proudly. “Let me help you out dear. I see that you have the kettle out and all. All that you need now is a good fire.” 

She moves near him and lights it with a flip of her wand, brushing past him to start with breakfast. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Weasely, I would like to help if I can. I cook at home often.”

“You mustn't worry yourself with that. I plan on cooking up a mighty feast, been a while since I had so many kids under my roof.” She shakes her head, and he can see the lines on her face. How had he never seen them before? She looks older to him for some reason. Maybe it's because he is older and he is aware that there isn’t enough time for everything. 

“It usually helps with the stress.” Harry watches her move about. “I do it to clear my mind. Tom doesn’t understand my need to do it, without magic. It just feels right, a routine. I suppose though it drives our house elf a bit batty.” 

Molly looks at him a moment as if placing him and seems to come out with nothing but that motherly love that he is used to. “I see no reason that we could do it together then.” Her smile is kind as always and he finds himself smiling along with her. He knows that she and Arthur would never have been the ones that wanted to kill him or push for it. 

She hands him a knife and cutting board, as she shuffles through the icebox and pantry for the things that they will need. He notices when others start to file downstairs. Ron looks amazed by the fact that his mother is cooking with someone, or perhaps that Harry would even want to. 

He knows that he is far from the boy that he was when he was originally the age his body reflects. He is not the only one that has changed from the timeline that he is sure. Molly probably never would have pulled her sons and daughter out of school like she had. She would have been content to have left them there for their own well being, but then it's not Voldemort this time running around outside of the school building. There is a more tangible threat that could have been near them, and he doesn’t know what the letters that Dumbledore had sent them said, or if his madness had seeped into something tangible enough that she had worried enough and pulled them away from the man that she had not questioned and was a faithful follower of in the past. 

Time travel and creating this new version of events was not exactly something that Harry wanted to think hard on. He wants to be happy with his decisions. Even if Tom seems to be worried about where they are going after this. Their greatest threat to them is no longer one. Dumbles would be kept away from them and under surveillance, of that Harry is certain. The Ministry would not go through another fuck up with him. Fudge was probably sweating buckets by now. But from a relationship prepositive, Harry thought that they had addressed this very issue some time ago. He doesn’t know why Tom is so worried about his soul shards now of all times and it looked like he might have to pry the answer out of him.

Tom didn’t like when he did that. Harry always felt as if he was stepping over some boundaries, even if it was really in the best interest of his reluctant boyfriend. Yes he was willing to place that label on it now. He is even willing to admit to himself that he loves Tom. He thinks that an I love you might cause the former Dark Lord to bolt. He is still coming to terms that he has to share Harry, and that he can't control everything about him. He probably is still trying to deal with the fact that he could have died. It makes sense in a twisted way why he is scared of letting the rest of his soul mend. It meant no immortality. No way to come back. 

He sets the table with a wave of his hand, the plate nearly hitting a now seated Ginny when her face breaks his concentration momentarily. She is as cute as she was when he had started to notice her, her eyes warm. She is such a contradiction to the person that he sees standing near him as he is shoved into the vail. He knows there is still a part of him that loves her, would have given her everything, but there is a very tainted view of her that sits in him. Much like Dumbledore where he is not able to forget and move past. 

“Morning.” She greets. “Almost took my head there.” 

He laughs nervously, “It's a good thing that you have Quidditch reflexes. You play sometimes right?” 

She nods. “Of course in this house, we play often over the summers, though my brothers often cheat.” 

“We do...” Fred said coming up behind her. 

“Not.” George answers in tandem. 

Harry smiles then watching them, knowing that there will always be a pair of them. That death will not lead George to fear for the rest of his family. Fred and Goerge would always be the prankster pair that they were meant to be and Harry would never face another familiar face out of the corner of his eyes when he was killed. 

“If you feel up to it, I would like to test that.” Harry sits himself down towards where Ron is so that he is not too close to Ginny. He had noticed the way that Tom had been eyeing her. Harry doesn't think that he will kill her, but he knows the annoying jealousy and protectiveness was just going to reach ahead if he thought that Harry was capable of somehow fixing his relationship with Ginny. Like that was even possible…. Gosh she was 13… and Harry was 32. He was almost the same age as Sirius. They would never have anything. 

“Well, we would have decent teams.” Ginny smiles slightly, picking up her orange juice as the food is delivered by Molly to the table. “What position would you play?” 

“Seeker,” Harry says immediately. “I have the eye, Sirius would tell you.” 

“Well, we...” Fred says 

“Are beaters.” Finishes George. 

“Boys stop trying to scare Harry with the twin finishing sentences act.” Molly tuts putting the rest of the food to the table. 

“I don’t mind at all Mrs. Weasely,” Harry says as innocently as he can. “I think it's pretty cool.” 

The twins look at each other with a look that only they could share. “See Mum, some people like it.” They say in near unison. Harry bites down on his eggs so that he doesn’t laugh. 

~/*\~

Sirius makes his way to the kitchen where the rest of the house with the exception of Marvolo and Severus are located. He wonders if Severus slipped off after they drank quite a bit in the garden outside. The events of that evening were a little blurry, as he had embraced drinking again as a way to numb the guilt. Something was bothering the person he would truly call a friend, even when the alcohol seemed to loosen him up a bit. The other even if he had left had been kind enough to leave him a hangover relief potion, so it just left the question if Severus kept them on himself for such occasions or if he had traveled in order to bring it back. Either way, it was appreciated. Sirius would be keeping tabs on the other, he might have been free of the old fucking man but he was sure that there were still other things that were bothering him.

“It was very kind of you to house us, Molly.” He sits down at the end of the table and talks softly so that Harry who is chatting with the twins will not hear him. 

“Nonsense it was what any friend would do Sirius. I am just glad that everything for the most part seems to be turning outright. Harry was kind enough to help with the cooking.” 

“He finds it relaxing.” Sirius pours himself a cup of coffee. “Marvolo sometimes helps him with it, even if he complains.” 

“Where is the lad?” Molly looks about seeming to now remember that she has another guest in her home.

“I think he was taking a shower, he likes to look presentable for all occasions.” 

Molly shakes her head. “I suppose he is similar to Percy then.” 

“Perhaps, I don’t know your sons as well as you do.” Sirius doesn’t deny or confirm her statement. 

“I like to think I know them decently enough.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Ronald Weasly you save some of that bacon for the rest of us.” She turns back to him. 

“Which one of you messed with the soap.” Marvolo graces them with his presence. “I have been trying to change it back with every spell that I know. I want it fixed.” 

Sirius chokes a little on his coffee as he looks up at a very frustrated 16-year-old. His hair is changing colors it seemed. At the moment it was dark blue, but the tips were starting to turn yellow and moving its way back towards his scalp. He barely keeps himself from laughing.

The Twins burst out into unified laughter that can not be contained, it makes its way through the table as a little giggle escapes Ginny, and Ron snorts. 

“We have been waiting ages…” one says. 

“For someone to try that bottle,” Finishes the second. 

“Undo it.” Marvolo hisses. 

“Tom it's okay.” Harry stands up. “It's a harmless prank.” 

“I know that.” Tom simmers. “It's... just look at it.” He finally just gestures, letting out another deep breath that Sirius can almost sense. 

“I am.” Harry smiles good-naturedly. “And blond is not your color. You have tried reversing spells right?” 

“Of course I have.” Tom huffs letting Harry touch his arm. 

“Well this might be something original.” Harry shakes his head. “Would you happen to know the counterspell?” He looks pointedly at the twins.

The two of them shake their heads. “It has to wear off.” The one that is slightly taller than the other says.

“And how long will that take?” Tom smiles a little too sharp for comfort as his hair gains pink tips to it. 

“Hard to say,” The shorter one stops chewing at his bacon slice. “Depends on how many spells you used on it.” 

Tom lets out a very loud breath that can be heard even feet from him. “It's impressive, I will give you that.” It seems that Marlovo is trying to be good-natured about the whole thing. Perhaps he is a little impressed, as there is very little the other can not do in short bursts of his magic. “But try it again and I think I will expose you to some of the best jinxes I know.” 

Yes, that sounds exactly how Sirius had expected the situation to go. Tom did like his little threats. Sirius had heard them directed more often than not to inanimate objects, the cats, and directed towards anything that graced the paper's headlines he particularly despised. 

“I think I know something that might work, and if it doesn’t I won’t try again.” Harry brushes his hand through the pink and black locks. 

“If you make it last longer than needed on purpose…” Tom starts. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Harry cuts him off. 

“You would.” Tom rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend otherwise, you and Morte do love a joke at my expense.” 

“Nonsense your meeting the first time went completely unplanned, and we discussed the whole wand thing.” 

Tom huffs again. “Try it then.” 

Harry says something too soft to be heard and Tom’s hair goes back to being that dark brown near black that it is supposed to be. 

“Well, I will be Damned.” The taller twin says. 

“Me to Forge.” says the other. 

“How did you do that.” they complete the thought. 

Harry just shrugs. 

~/*\~

They spend a bit longer with the Weasleys. Harry enjoys playing Quidditch with them. The teams turn out to be Fred, Ron, and Harry against Ginny, Sirius, and George. The twins do try in vain to get Tom off the ground, but the other really has no skill in flying with a broom and Harry is sure that not wanting to embarrass himself is the number one reason that he refused. Harry wonders if having to spend time with Percy is truly a good trade-off, but Tom has always been a master of pretending to care what others were saying and listening only enough to add in when it felt appropriate. 

Home was a godsend. Loki had given birth while they were away to 3 very healthy kittens. They were so tiny and their eyes were still closed. They were all black like their mother, but with almost fine hair or only an undercoat. They looked a bit like werewolves with their bare little paws. The other cats were doing what they could to look at the kittens. Garfield while being more cat-like than Moon Moon did not seem to see what the fuss was about and would probably be leaving them alone. While Moon Moon was like a silent posted guardian of the room after Harry might have accidentally let it slip that he hoped that they would stay safe and thought of it as a command. 

Loki being named after the god of Mischief and her mate Voldie led to the decision of the many names in the next couple of weeks. Fenrir was for the largest of the kittens and thus named for there was no place that the kitten would not find himself able to escape to. He was the most playful, pinning down his siblings, and chewing all that his little teeth could chew. Hel was named for her curly ear that was almost like a blemish, she was more like her father than Harry liked. Because they were on the idea of gods and such the adorable last kitten that was the smallest was named Fola for spring and flowers. It did not exactly follow Norse that the other names were gifted, but Harry found that it was a better name than the others that Tom had suggested. 

Things had drifted back to an uneasy normal. Sirius was leaving as he figured that since they were taking their exams early that they were capable of being left alone while he took a well-needed recovery trip. Things with Tom were off. Harry couldn’t put a real finger on what had changed but he felt as if the other was becoming distant, using the care he put into taking care of the cats, and such as excuses to avoid having a meaningful conversation with him. Even with Sirius leaving, Tom didn’t show much interest in the relationship side of things. It would be a lie if it didn’t greatly annoy Harry, as he didn’t know what was going on with them.

It eventually becomes clear that much like the time that Tom had cornered him to talk about the soul shards that it must happen again. 

~/*\~

It’s another late fall day, much like the last one. The trees in front of the property are turning golden brown. Tom wakes to Loki and 3 kittens spread out on his bed. The connection to them has grown. Flora had been his mini project having been born very tiny and was more clumsy than her siblings. Not that he has any less fondness for the others. They feel like small little gifts, that take away some of the strange emptiness that he has been feeling. Voldie struts underfoot. The cat had been bringing back things that he could find around the house, none that were all that useful but the hairless gremlin tried. He would give him that. 

He has been at a strange stalemate with his life. Yes, he had his exams in a week with Harry. Yes, he was going to be free of a lot of things when he has the results in. The main thing he is struggling with is direction. It was so easy when he had the goal of immortality and fixing all of Wizard Britain by ruling over it. He had the idea to travel more, and study even things that were darker than what he had previously studied. He was going to own it all, precious artifacts and unknown treasure. He was going to bring back glorious traditions of old.

Somehow in the last couple of months, such things have become less and less relevant. It was as if he had stumbled and fallen violently from the path that he had known. It left him in the jungle, unknown no man’s land with nothing but Harry for a vague sense of direction. He’s in a slump perhaps with enough time it will go away. He just has to find the right motivation again, something that connects him to a bigger purpose than just sitting in this stuffy house. Something fitting of his skills and mind. He looks over at the pamphlets that he had gotten in regards to internships and the ministry, all good starting positions for advancing into someone that actually can wield power and craftily make changes. It's just paper though and he can not see himself as someone that picks up that briefcase every day and comes home to Harry.

Harry is a whole nother thing that he doesn’t want to think about. He knows that he cares for him, of all the things that there have been in his life Harry makes the most sense. He is caring, compassionate, forgiving, understanding, and stubborn. He is a counter to Tom in nearly everything, and they blend together well like some strange food combination that Sirius would insist tasted better than it sounded. And with his help, he is now 3/6 of the way there to mending his soul. He feels connected to the shards in the necklace even though he hasn’t completed mending them to himself.

It's just he feels that he is meant for more than this… certainly not ruling. He just knows now there is limited time and he wants to make the most of it but is not sure how. It's like he knew when he was facing his own death, but now he is just once again sitting somewhere. Harry is already making plans to make moves in the Ministry. Not as an administer of justice or magical police, as much as Harry likes adventure he is staying away from things like that. It seems that he is headed for creating a better protective service for Magical Children and Muggle-borns of all things. The great Potter also might be writing a few books that are not going to see the light of day for most people. He was compiling all that he knew about the inner workings of Death into its own single bound book. There were scripts floating around the desk area. Harry was being productive at the very least. It was more than Tom could have said for himself. 

He makes his way to the kitchen where Harry is. He does his best to smile as the other has made food for both of them. It's actually been a bit since Harry had cooked. Kreacher had been working more often on the house as Harry buried himself into creating his manuscript. Tom is sure that the reason that Harry has done this was in an attempt to give him space. Tom will admit that he hasn’t been the most sociable. It is like they have traveled back to when they were not on the most friendly of terms. 

“Sit please.” Harry has a weary smile on his face and for some reason that pulls on his heartstrings funny. “We need to talk.” 

He has a sudden awful feeling. Perhaps he knew this day was coming because he isn’t invested or motivated as he was before to get it all back on track. He sits nonetheless because Harry deserves that at the very least. He braces himself for the reasons as they are not really excuses. Tom knows his hands are coated, he knows how he is, and he can’t blame Harry for cutting forever short. 

“You look like I kicked Loki.” Harry sits next to him with two cups of tea. He usually sits across from him, unless there is a crowded table. Harry sets both cups down and then puts one hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a bad talk. I just want to understand where it is we’re at.”

Tom smiles just as stupidly back. He is nearing 70 something and he feels like an idiot or a child that is about to be let down gently. He has no experience with this sort of thing, well he has but it had been him letting another person go that he cared nothing for. He supposes that it is different when you care about someone, when you don’t want to hurt them, and they don't want to hurt you. 

“I thought that if I told you that you would bolt.” Harry’s hand travels down towards his forearm. “I have known for a while that I love you.” 

Tom takes a sharp intake of breath. 

“I assume that isn’t where you thought that this was going.” Harry breathes out loudly through his nose. “I don’t want what we had to go away, but I won’t hold you here if you want freedom and whatever comes along with it. If you can't love me back that isn’t your fault, we can still be close and friends.”

No Harry had it wrong… he should have wanted freedom from him. He is the one that killed his parents. Tom is the one that caused a war that killed hundreds of people. Their faces all blurred together over time and the things that he has done. So many people suffered because of him. And yes he feels some guilt over it, some amount of remorse for it. He wasted so much life, bringing nothing but destruction. Even to someone that he cares for...no people. He has come to like Sirius. He should let Harry go on thinking this, it would make it all so much simpler. He could slip away and finish bonding with the rest of himself. Harry could be rid of him. But the thought of losing him makes it so hard. Tom’s life has very little without Harry and since he knows the bond between them still stands, at least Harry won’t be condemned to a life with him. 

“I care for you.” He insists selfishly. “I just have been trying to figure out what to do with my second chance.” 

“We can figure it out together,” Harry says softly. 

It comes out in a rush of madness and everything. How trapped that he feels with the weight of his sins, the guilt that has poisoned him enough that he doesn’t know how to get rid of it. It's awful to say it out loud, it's admitting that he is weak enough to be nearly crushed under what he has come to feel. And Harry listens to him. He holds on more tightly than he has ever held on before. It feels like there is something breaking in him and that horrible burning of the shards shifting. Not nearly as painful as the others had been but they react as they should, and he can feel them trying to join back.

The idea of being alone… loneliness. It has only bothered him slightly in his life and his rise to power. Isolation was key, distancing himself from those around him so that he can not be hurt. This time though it is in connection with the idea of leaving for the betterment of others, the few that he likes. Even if the idea is painful and against everything that he had previously wanted. He despite everything can not be apart from the person holding onto him gently. And lastly, the shard that is pure innocence comes from the desire to be loved, to feel that emotion that others seem to crave, to belong. Is such a thing that Tom Riddle never had. He had been outcast from a very young age, acceptance had hardly ever been an option. And so there bleeds in the most childish of all emotions HOPE. Hope that things can get better. Things can change. There is that childlike wonder of what it would be like if Harry at least can forgive him, how that would set him free. 

~/*\~

“I can't regret the last shard that I made. I can regret the others, I can find a way I am sure of it. I don’t fail.” Tom tries to make the situation lighter or he is talking himself up. Harry can not tell which is the case or if it is a combination. “But the last one I admit that I am fearful to regret entirely and take back.” 

“Why?” Harry breaths out in disbelief. “Why would you fear that one?” 

“It feels like part of our relationship hinges on it, I suppose.”

Tom is the very thing that Harry never has really seen him be, or thought he could be, vulnerable. For once there is no smugness to him, that smile that is a lie is not on his face. He is human and worried. Perhaps very worried about things that have built up over time, and with things that even Harry himself can not answer. He waits in silence for the other to continue. 

“I know that it is one of the few things that has brought me to this point. I am better, saner than I ever was or could have been alone.” Tom looks up at the ceiling, his wand hands fingers are twitching ever so slightly. “I feel things, want things again, however selfish that is. I can not regret it. And If I did, if it took it back you always are talking about wishing to rest and I can not be alone forever.”

Harry rests his head against Tom’s shoulder. “There doesn’t need to be a forever, is just here and now not enough? One lifetime together? I am not planning on going anywhere when the shard is no longer in me, and I would guess you aren’t either. We should enjoy the now. I know that you do have remorse for killing my parents even if you can’t face it yet. It's written in the way that you don’t want to hurt me, would leave if you thought it would make me happier.” He sighs deeply. “We’re not used to this, I mean we're both emotionally and socially stunted individuals.”

Tom laughs bitterly. “Some of us cut out half of our emotions not to have to deal with them.” 

“Exactly.” Harry agrees. “So we should just take it one day at a time. We take our exams, we travel, and we plot our own paths. There are many years ahead to decide exactly what it is that we will do, and we have no time table to do it. We could do some soul searching if you will.”

“That was horrible, and I would like you to know that you are horrible.” Tom shakes his head.

“It got you to smile.” Harry glances up at him. 

“It did not.” Tom refuses.

“Did too.” Harry reaches up and pokes the side of Tom’s mouth. “See there is a little turnup of the muscles right there.” 

Tom surprises him by kissing against those fingers, sending a wave of heat to his cheeks. 

“Thank you, Harry.” He says the simplest of words, but Harry can tell that he is thanking him for a lot more than making him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a hard one to write, I had taken some time off because of my hands and forced to place myself back into the rhythm of trying to write every day again. (It also might be because it's so gosh darn long and needed so much editing) Thank you to all those that wished me well and made suggestions on what to do for the times that I can not type or at least as much as I wish to. It means a great deal to me. 
> 
> There is one more planned chapter for an Epilogue and I can't wait to see you all there. It means the world to me to have such wonderful readers, commenters, and those that have left very wonderful/helpful feedback. This work has been an absolute pleasure to write. As I am just finishing up the Epilogue it should be out in the next couple of days. 
> 
> Dawn :D


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tom start their Forever :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not hold off any longer and proceed to just edit the ending and post it, as if I were a reader that would be exactly what I wanted a quick update.

Harry wakes to the sound of rain to an empty bedroom of the home that has become his in the last few years. He rolls over to the side, detangling himself from the sheets with a very loud grunt. The frame of the older bed creaks and he pats the other side feeling to see if he can feel another body. The bed feels a bit colder this morning as there is not the usual person that is laying next to him upon it. Tom is already up, it seems and off to work. Harry must have overslept again. 

Tom had been working in Magical and Muggle relationships recently. It might have been his way of trying to achieve a version of redemption for himself. He still has a dislike for Muggles, but he knows that they are both a danger to future generations of Wizards and Witches, but also a possible source of new and future generations of Magical children. Harry has managed to sway Tom to trying to build more positive and tighter regulations when Wizards were to interact with them from the original idea of all-out banning them entirely from their world and taking their children from them for the Magical World’s protection. Tom might have made strides, but Harry can tell that he still has a dislike interacting with them, most people really. 

It is still a needed compromise. Tom can achieve the change that he wished for and to fortify the Magical World for the reality of when they had to announce their existence. He can build the protection that he seeks, and help to integrate the proudest of traditions back, in a legal and safe manner. That is not to say that Tom is not a cut-throat politician in training, and while he is not murdering anyone physically he still was capable of destroying a person. There was not a soul that the former Dark Lord could not kill the career of with a few well-spoken words and perhaps more shady pushings of agenda. There are as many that fear his lineage as there are those that are drawn to him because of it. He blends well the need for changes in the Ministry to become more accommodating of the modern aria and the need to keep some traditions and revitalize others. Having power and control with limitations is very good for Tom, even if Tom would deny that he needs the checks and balances. Though with the way that he is moving up in the rankings Tom might yet become the ‘youngest’ Minister of Magic in history if that was what he truly wanted to be. 

His new purpose plays well with Harry’s desire to protect Magical children and he has started to fund and help construct programs for Muggleborns to have better integration into their world and at a younger age. The programs were especially useful for children that were orphaned or in danger because of their manifesting powers from their caregivers. 

Harry has not convinced Tom about adoption yet, but then they are really not yet ready to make that much of a commitment. They have 7 cats after all and they are all quite enough for them with their unique personalities. Harry makes his way towards the kitchen, half-dressed, and with no need to care about dressing himself further. It is his day off and he intends to enjoy every moment of it, that means eating breakfast in his boxers if he so wishes to. 

Kreacher or Tom has left him some tea under a warming spell to keep it nice for him. The walls to the kitchen have the nice addition of cork boards that are covered in moving pictures and Muggle postcards from the many places that Tom and he have traveled. There are also a few pictures of Morte and the cats, Sirius and Severus from their outings, and a few letters from Quirrell that are more than happy to be teaching again. Besides the ones of himself and Tom, Death's pictures are his favorite for they are slightly off just like the being. Morte had loved the children of the creations that Harry had managed to make, like the previous creations they did not age much past their infancy and perhaps were near immortal as the stone had been the source of their creation. Tom is aging though so Harry probably at least had gotten something right in that regard.

He thumbs his way through the mail. There were a few letters from his friends. One has that neat scroll that he is all too familiar with. He had reconnected with Hermione due to her investment in his projects, and because she had literally harassed her way into Tom’s department through Harry. She is much of the same person that he remembers slightly bossy, but both compassionate and hardworking. Tom would have been a fool to turn her away. Ron and the Weasleys had become as close to him as they were before. There is an invitation from Molly to come to Ginny’s 17th birthday. It was a big date after all and Harry could be proud of her for that and nearing graduation from Hogwarts. He would be sending their reservation shortly after Tom made it home of that he is sure. There are a few other pamphlets for travel recommendations mixed in with the normal letters and the Daily Prophet. 

He raises an eyebrow at them, but he supposes that people would send them just because they had done a lot of traveling together. Tom had a love for their little trips and Harry feels that they may be due for one again. He is getting a bit stir crazy with his job. 

The day passes easily with the writing of his book, and his research into souls. Tom has mended with 5/6 of his soul, the only thing left was the one that was embedded in his very being. It isn’t as simple to detangle apparently as just feeling remorse for the action that caused it. Tom’s apologetic about it and had been helping in looking into possible solutions but so far they have been rather unsuccessful. It's nothing that Harry is too concerned about. In a lot of ways, their bond has been useful. However, he does know that unless they have fixed their souls rest isn’t possible. Not that he wants that any time soon. He rather loves the direction that his life has been going. 

~/*\~

Tom takes a deep breath and opens the door to Grimmauld place over the years he has had time to help curb Harry’s need to Gryffindor color coordinate the place into a more manageable obsession that his own sense of style can mesh with. He after all can not have small hostings of business ‘friends’ over at their place if there was more than one rather large lion statue out on display. 

It's been a long day, but he has plans and tucked nicely in his jacket pocket are tickets out of the country. He finds Muggle planes better than trying to appreciate such long distances. Even with his soul as intact as it can be, he still feels incredibly drained when he attempts such a thing. Besides there was a quaintness and nice relaxing feeling to sitting in first class and being doted on, he was more than willing to put up with Muggles for a couple of hours if he can sit back and take his time getting there. 

He taps his pocket one more time as he opens the place with his keys. Loki is seated by the window, her daughter Flora is to her right and Voldie is by the potted plant. He carefully checks around the doorframe for Fenrir that might try to jump at him and make yet another daring escape towards the freedom of the outside world. When he catches no sign of the impressively large male cat he closes the door behind him and places his small briefcase on the floor. Funny how he had never wanted to use one of the things, and it has become something that he uses frequently. 

Harry is already making his way over for a hug and it feels nice to bury himself into the other's hair. He enjoys that even after the latest and probably near to last growth spurt that Harry had that he is still shorter and smaller for him. It makes leaning on him all the more enjoyable as Harry shifts to try and keep them both upright. 

“Molly invited us to Ginny’s 17th party.” Harry's voice is muffled by his shirt.

“And I should care about the girl because?” Tom mutters refusing to let go yet as Harry tries to pull apart. 

“Because it's a big deal for their family and we are definitely going.” 

“The annoying one is going to try and talk to me about work,” Tom complains because Percy seems to crave climbing up the departments more than Tom ever thought that a person could. He was hard-working but was such an annoying yes man that Tom wants nothing to do with him. The twins are the only ones that he can stand. “If we go you are going to owe me.”

“Oh shush. You will have fun if you stick with me.” Harry denies. “I plan on spending the party huddled in the corner with Fred and George discussing their latest products.”

Tom lets him pull away then. “I do like it when I can see the effects said products have on other people.”

“Of course you do.” Harry smiles. “I still think that the one they got you with to change the color of your hair is the best.” 

“And the one that turned you into a canary was quite pleasant as it gave you insight on how your nagging of me sounds.” He chuckles to himself at the annoyed look that graces Harry’s face. Harry rolls his eyes as Tom sits down on the sofa. Their elderly elf makes his way forward with some evening tea as Tom wiggles his shoes off, feeling relieved that he is no longer in them. Tile was such an unforgiving substance after hours of standing on it. He had though made his stances quite clear to the heads of offices. It feels so good to sit, that he hardly feels it when there is a sudden warmth at his side. Harry leans into him and he allows it, as the tea is probably too hot to drink at this point. 

“I was thinking.” Tom tactfully starts.

“A possible dangerous pass time for you.” Harry sighs not bothering to open his eyes as he has relaxed onto his shoulder. 

“I was planning rather.” Tom amends. 

“You don’t plan your scheme,” Harry creeks an eye open. “And does your scheme have anything to do with travel. I saw some travel brochures this morning in the mail addressed to you.” 

“Harry can you just let me finish.” He feels slight annoyance slip into his tone, though he does his best to control it. 

“I am sorry, continue oh great Dark Lord of mine.” Harry pretends to be giving him his undivided attention. 

“Thank you.” Tom shakes his head. “I thought that we could have a nice trip to Egypt for your birthday. It would be a nice getaway. Morte has been very interested in getting us to travel there as it is a cradle of Magic and his favorite civilization. It would be nice I think to see it.” 

“I don’t have anything planned currently. How long would we be gone? Severus would have to watch the cats. I am not leaving Death in charge of trying to keep them alive ever again.”

“Yes, we are lucky that they have supposedly 9 lives.” Tom nodded in agreement. They never should have trusted the entity to know how to feed them while they were visiting Japan. “Severus would be ideal, as Sirius can’t be trusted either.” 

“Well if Severus is in charge of them Sirius is just going to follow him right into the living room. He will make the excuse of saving him from Voldie.” 

The hairless cat raises his head at the sound of his name, eyes half-lidded with sleep but nonetheless less than inviting to look at. 

“At least he won’t do much more than glare at them.” 

“Or bark.” Harry chuckles. “So when are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow evening.” Tom pulls out the tickets. “I already made preparations for you, your offices will not be expecting you.”

“Sometimes you know I hate you when you go over my head in these sorts of things.” Harry takes a testing sip of his tea, sitting up to do so and snagging the tickets to get a better look at them. “But since this was a nice surprise I may be inclined to forgive you.”

“How merciful of the champion of the light.” Tom teases back. 

“You have no idea.” Harry smiles largely. “Looks like you really have this planned brilliantly.” His eyes dart over the traveling plans next.

“Of course I do.” Tom feels a stupid sense of pride fill him at the complement. 

~/*\~

Egypt is a wonderfully diverse landscape. Harry enjoys everything but the heat of it. He much like Tom finds that he does not so much tan as he does burn. But even with the heat Harry enjoys all of the temples, including that of the temple of the dead. The complex was the tumb and final resting place of a great deal of Ancient Egyptians and then later Christians. The old halls sing of death but also unknown magics. Harry finds himself immersed in the many writings, and he takes his time through the many museums. Tom is rather fond of standing near artifacts that still show signs of enchantments trying to deduce their uses and the spells that craft them. He seems more than excited about the cursed ones not that Harry is all that surprised. 

It is a civilization that at one point had been in very close contact with both cultures of Magicians and Muggles. It is a blending of the old world and new world. One moment they are near something thousands of years old the next near something that is modern yet ever-changing. The landscapes are breathtaking as are the pyramids that tower overall. It is in the small Nubia Museum that showcases what had been lost beneath the great lake of Nasser that Tom directs him towards a stone artwork that he is somewhat familiar with the symbol of. 

“It is a Shen.” Harry reads from the pamphlet now able to remember the name of it at least. “which depicted a rope that has no end. It is a testament to an unbroken bond or infinity…”

“Or completeness, eternity, preservation, and enduring persistence.” Tom finishes for him, taking the small paper from his hands. “Which is something that we have in spades.” 

Harry suddenly is aware of how close the other is to him. There is no one around them in this small closed-off exhibit. 

“Harry, I would like to ask you to marry me, let us tie a knot in our respective ropes so that they will always be together with no longer an end just more beginnings.”

“That has to be the sappiest thing that you have ever said to me.” Harry covers his mouth with his hand. “I mean we're in a way already soul bonded…”

Tom glares at him. “I am trying to ask you something serious here.”

“Oh, I know.” Harry coughs to relieve the slightly choked up feeling that he has, wishing that there was sand to blame for getting in his eyes past his glasses. “I find it incredibly like your little speeches and schemes. Your timing for this with the sun setting and everything is truly outdoing yourself with dramatic flare.” 

“Harry.” Tom sighs deeply. 

“I accept of course ” Harry takes his outstretched hand in his and presses his lips softly against his. The kiss is soft and light but promises more the way Tom looks at him after it ends. Harry has hope as he feels at the ring that is now on his finger that there will be many more adventures for them to come. The sunsets on another day as they head back to their small hotel room. Tom tightens his hold on Harry's hand and he squeezes back just as hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Fic is one of my favorites to write and I am very proud of myself for finishing it. I often have great (or at least I think they are) ideas and I will get frustrated with them for a hard scene and just halt for a long time and or give up halfway through due to poor planning. 
> 
> This fic went through 3 major revisions to plot while I was writing it, as after I wrote Severus for the first time I could not make him as reluctantly evil as I had originally planned. Not after I felt for him in the beginning chapters with his connection to Lily. Thus his role shifted and the bullet points for the end battle had to be altered as Albus took on a darker role. The end battle went through so many changes as I wanted it to be as believable and intense as possible. Fighting scenes have started to become one of the bigger challenges in my works but this one gave me a wonderful chance to try new things. And lastly, the ending chapter scene was supposed to happen in a different location at a different time, but I found the kitchen a great reverse of what had happened before. It was the first place that they talked face to face, and about the soul shards. It made a nice place for the last deeply felt conversation to happen. But even with these changes it all came together into something I love, and have been honored to have you all read and enjoy with me. 
> 
> I have a short or two in mind that could be interesting to post for this AU as I am reluctant to let such a pair go. But as I now have experience with them as a ship, I feel there are for sure future works coming soon like this one. I have started to plan some and feel it would be interesting to see where they go. If you want to take another journey with me, I hope to see you all again on the next one. 
> 
> Thank You all again and much love, 
> 
> Dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Feedback, Questions, and Kudos are always welcome and appreciated. 
> 
> Support / constructive feedback = encouragement to make these works happen = better writing 
> 
> Never enough thanks for that!


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